Southern Comfort
by cherryVodka
Summary: The outbreak had become a northeastern pandemic and was quickly spreading south. Off in the distance, gunshots and explosions resounded, indicating there were other survivors besides the four stuck in the front of a grand hotel now consumed by fire. ExOC
1. Dead Center

**SOUTHERN COMFORT**  
_Dead Center, Part One_

**Prologue**

"Norman! Can you - yeah, get the lights... thanks..."

The woman checked off another chore on her clipboard, though most of them had already been taken care of. Her new found sense of authority was very short lived, seeing as most of the camera men and crew were already successfully set up. Taking a bite from her lip and rubbing sweaty, nervous palms against the hem of her orange t-shirt, the beautiful dark skinned woman commenced to examining the set location. The area was oddly quiet and absent of any of the previously spoken abnormalities, save for a few men in hazardous material suits and small lines of sickly patients waiting at the makeshift medical stations. Something felt off, however, and caused goose pimples to rise on her flesh.

"This is some weird shit we got ourselves into..." she said.

Somewhere near the outskirts of Savannah, the same uneasy atmosphere resided. A young man in a mechanical garage was the only of a crew of four men to pay attention to the radio as it very vaguely explained the reasoning behind the strange occurrences. He stopped drilling the bolts of a fresh tire to catch the final phrases of the broadcast, describing scenarios and advising listeners to take caution when dealing with enigma dubbed "Infected." A smirk played at his lips, and he took his blue cap from his head to scratch his sandy brown hair.

"Somethin's comin'," he stated expectantly, but was ignored by his co-workers.

Closer to the river, a man cautiously stepped from an arriving ferryboat into the thinning crowd, not unusually mindful of his surroundings. He carefully fixed the cuff links on his crisp white suit, adjusting them as necessary and casually slipping into a diner across the street. Taking a seat quietly, his eyes scanned the streets outside; what he had failed to notice before (as he was apparently always cautious of things out of the ordinary)were several limping and but not notably wounded civilians. Their faces seemed vacant and weirdly pale. His attention, however, was averted as an attractive woman took a seat next to him and placed a red mouthed kiss on his neck.

In the same diner sat a husky bronze man; seated in a round booth surrounding him were teenagers in football uniforms, freshly caked with dirt and grass stains. Although his mind was lingering somewhere else, he overheard his team loudly discussing the possibilities of a mythical world wide pandemic that could possibly wipe out humankind. He chuckled at the juvenile thought, but casting his attention to the television above the bar, where a view of the inner city, the men in Hazmat suits, and pictures of grotesque flesh growths flashed onscreen, made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Come to think of it..." he muttered to no one in particular. "...the wife's been actin' kinda strange the past few days."

_Two weeks later_

"That's strange," said the young mechanic, as he flipped through radio stations in his truck. "Why are all the stations down? It ain't flooded."

As he continued to drive through the streets into the city, he suddenly took notice that most of the routes were empty, with the exception of CEDA company trucks and the occasional military Humvee, but there weren't many. Rolling to a stop at the appropriate sign, he saw a staggering civilian stumble onto his path. The individual was bleeding fatally from what he could see, and his clothes had been ripped almost to complete shreds. The young man scrunched his face and strained his eyes to get a closer look, and saw that the man had several festering wounds on his disgustingly pale skin. Without so much as a second thought, he turned off the engine and exited the vehicle to assist him.

"Sir?" he called out, but the man was unresponsive. "You all right? You need a ride to the hospital? Sir?"

He walked a little closer, and the man whipped around like an alerted dog. His eyes were absent of human attributes, now carrying a wicked animalistic hue. His mouth was dripping with red liquid, obviously appearing to be blood. A low grumble started in his throat, much like an animal growl.

"Sir? You don't look so good..." the young mechanic said, but then he took notice of a group of civilians with similar symptoms as the man, and he suddenly knew. "Holy shit, zombies are real! _I knew it_..."

Within an instant, the whole group had been alerted and now they and the wounded man began to charge toward him. He whirled around and leaped back into the truck, slamming the door shut, jerking the engine to life and stamping his foot on the accelerator. He mowed past the man, but the small crowd was now trailing after him at incredulous velocity. In a heightened panic, he reached for the floor on the passenger side and retrieved a pump shotgun, slinging a string of curse words into a makeshift sentence. His eyes scanned the road ahead, and as he entered into the main street of the city, he could see more of those creatures in denser crowds. In the distance, he could hear some shots being fired, followed by a loud scream and the newly attracted horde. Instinctively, he powered through the mob toward the source of the sounds, coming to the sight of an apparently abandoned shot location for a news cast. On one of the crew vans stood a dark skinned female in an orange t-shirt, wielding a Magnum pistol and firing at approaching enemies. Without further hesitation, the young man plowed forward and zipped the truck around so that the bed was directly in front of the woman, were she to jump.

"Get in!" he cried. "Hurry!"

She said nothing and obeyed, slamming into the bed of the truck and then leaping over the edge to the passenger side. Upon her entering the vehicle, the young man pressed onto the accelerator and shot forward once again. The horde, by this time, had grown significantly in number and were tailing them like bloodhounds on a hunt. Soaring overhead in the skies were helicopters, and the new woman loudly instructed him to follow them to a location unexplained. He did so, gripping the steering wheel as the truck bounced upon impact with dozens more of these unfriendly civilians.

"What in God's name is goin' on here?" the woman cried, breathing heavily and grasping her head. "Those sick people tried to bite me! What kind of city is this?"

"Them things ain't hardly people, ma'am," the young man replied gravely. "Them things is flesh-eatin' zombies!"

There was no time to fight the idea, for they had reached a blockade installed by CEDA and a rushing wave of people blazing toward the Vannah hotel, following workers in the Hazmat suits seen on television. Many of them were bleeding with wounds that appeared to be fatal animal bites, and some were even convulsing on the ground or seizing. A sign outside of the hotel read "CEDA EVAC" in flashing orange letters, recently splattered with blood. Suddenly, a streak of riot cops blocked the entrances of the hotel, gripping enormous machine guns and bulletproof shields. As more people came racing toward them, pleading to get in, they were shot. Both the young man and woman cried out in surprise.

"Aw, shit! They're shootin' everybody now!" he exclaimed. "Don't look like they lettin' no one in!"

"What are we gonna do?" the woman asked.

"I dunno, but we ain't got time to think," he replied, grabbing his pump shotgun, a small package of shells and pushing open his door, motioning for her to follow. "We gotta get to that evac station."

She took her Magnum handgun and the both of them proceeded to rushing among the thinning crowd, throwing their hands up in the air and claiming they weren't zombies. Upon reaching the riot cops, they were halted.

"Let us through!" the woman screamed. "We aren't infected like them! We haven't been bitten!"

The cop moved aside and allowed her to pass, but they still kept the young man from following.

"Hey! I ain't no zombie neither!" he proclaimed, fighting their shields. "You got to let me through! Please!"

The woman whirled around and shoved the cop from behind, grabbing the young man by the arm as he stumbled and dragging him into the enormous grand hotel. There, only few people were being tended to by the Hazmats, but most of them had already died. A small fire had started at the side of the building, probably by rioters and unhappy civilians. The men in protective suits paid no heed to the new couple as they searched the lobby for an attentive authority figure, but it was clean of anyone besides piles of bodies and people dropping to the floor to accumulate to the number.

"Get to the roof!" the woman yelled. "I hear a chopper!"

They approached the elevator and pressed onto the calling button, but the response lagged. They then turned and faced the outside of the hotel, seeing the flood of angry zombies charge toward them. A rain of gunshots could also be heard above the screaming, but it was unsure where exactly they came from.

"Oh, my God," the woman said, as they watched the horde stampede the riot cops and race through the plaza of the hotel. Some of the creatures were toppling over each other, fighting one another to get to a fallen cop or civilian, and began tearing at them like wild animals. "Oh, my God! Let's go!"

The elevator failed to arrive and they resulted to taking the many flights of stairs. Just as they made it past the first story, the door burst open and two more survivors ran through breathlessly. A husky man leaned on the handrail and gasped for air as a man in a white suit tried to lead him forward.

"Who puts... an evac station... up thirty flights... of gah-damn stairs..." he heaved, trying to follow the man.

"C'mon, Coach," the man panted. "Maybe the chopper... maybe it's made out of chocolate... a-heh...ah-heh-heh-heh!"

The apparent coach only glared at him, but continued to follow up the stairs after him. When they finally reached the rooftop, they joined the two previous survivors but were not greeted warmly with an evacuation helicopter or an aircraft. Instead, the tragic sight of a smoldering city grimly welcomed them; but besides themselves, they were completely alone, stranded on the roof of a hotel about to be consumed in flames and a flesh-eating infection.

"Hey, where is everybody? Hello-o-o?" shouted the young man in vain. "Anybody here?"

"This isn't happening," sighed the woman, cradling her throbbing temples. "This is not happening."

"I thought they were supposed to be savin' ou' asses!" Coach cried angrily.

The man in the white suit leaned on his knees in attempt to catch his breath.

"Looks like there's been a change of plans."

"This is some bullshit!" the young man shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "Aw, man, I can't believe this!"

"You think they saw us?" the woman inquired, watching as the last helicopter joined the flock in the sky.

"They saw us alright," the suited man replied bitterly.

The new group shortly exchanged acknowledging glances, then proceeded to a table set up by the doors they had come from. On it was a P220 handgun, a crowbar, a baseball bat, and four red first aid kits. The gang shared awkward looks, then chose their weapons and strapped the health kits to their backs. It was an instinct they couldn't help, and it was their instincts that was going to keep them alive.

"Looks like they're headin' to the mall," Coach stated, nodding to the skies as the aircraft floated away. "C'mon."

"You think the world's gone to hell?" the man in the suit quipped as he grabbed the handgun. "I'm takin' a weapon."

He bust open the adjacent door to the staircase leading to the uppermost floor of conference rooms and they followed after him. They all stopped, staring at the door leading back into the hotel that they had previously tried to escape from; then, they looked to each other, only Coach seeming to have a somewhat positive answer.

"A'ight, behind this here door, hell's waitin' for us," he began. "We got to stick together to survive. I dunno what them things is, all I know's we can't be gettin' bit. Elevator's down the hall, not too far; if we can get to it, we can get outta here before the whole thing goes up in flames. Got it?"

The new team nodded slowly, their weapons wielded securely in their hands. Coach opened the door and carefully stepped through, making sure to scan all the open rooms before proceeding. The current floor was not yet affected by the fire, but was completely abandoned, save for the conference tables littered with marked maps and a dry-erase board in the far corner. Rochelle retrieved the maps, rolled them up as thin and small as she could, stuffed them into her pockets, then rejoined the group in the hallway. At Coach's signal, the survivors took off running, fighting to keep their balance as the floors rocked beneath them. They followed the signs leading to the elevator and rounded a left corner; before they could go any further, however, a man in a tattered business suit stumbled out of one of the suites, wheezing and dripping with crimson. It took notice of them, growled, and charged for Coach, who was the nearest; he swung his bat and collided with the creature's head, splattering brain matter onto the walls.

"C'mon!" he shouted, motioning for the gang to follow as he passed a room full of the same creatures.

With a series of violent shrieks, the group of about ten ran from the room toward them, throwing their arms out and lunging for them.

"Get back! Get back!" the young man shouted, pumping his shotgun and blasting two of them with one shot. "Git to the elevator!"

He thrust the butt of his shotgun at another oncoming attack, knocking it into the approaching mob and briefly stumbling them. He pumped his shotgun once more and unloaded another shell, taking one in the side of the head. The woman in the orange t-shirt began dispensing whatever was left of her Magnum into several more, only catching about half of what she aimed at. Then she took the crowbar and began to swing, hitting a few more but only knocking them to their knees. She pushed the man in the white suit forward and kept running, with the mechanic following closely behind.

"Git in here!" Coach called from inside the elevator, blocking the doors. "Hurry!"

The trio soared into the elevator just as Coach fell back from the doors. The young man fired another shot into the charging crowd, briefly stumbling them until the doors shut. They fell silent as the elevator music began and a meek wave of mild relief settled over them only briefly.

"Holy shit! This is some sorta nightmare gah-damn zombie apocalypse an' shit!" the young man exclaimed excitedly. "Shit, shit, shit, the hell are we gon' do."

"Settle down, son," Coach said, rubbing his temples. "Everything's gonna be all right. What's your name?"

"Ellis. Name's Ellis."

"Hey, I'm Rochelle," the woman stated to the three of them. "You?"

"You did good out there, Rochelle," the man in the suit replied. "The name's Nick."

As they plunged deeper into the floors of the hotel, smoke began to fill the tiny space and the temperature rose. At about the fourth floor, the elevator suddenly stopped, staggering the survivors inside. The lights and music shut off, and the doors remained sealed.

"Aw, dammit!" Ellis cried, pounding into the control console. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

"It ain't no use, Ellis," Coach said, then looked at Rochelle. "We got to pry our way through. Hand me your crowbar, please, Miss Rochelle."

She did so, and Coach took it, driving it between the steel doors. With an elongated groan, he managed to wedge them open, at the expense of a horrible, screeching noise emitting from it. Once he bust open the doors, he tossed the crowbar back to Rochelle and gestured for them to follow. As they stepped out into the smoke, they immediately began to cough; their line of sight was terribly obscured, and it was an understatement to say it was hot. The fire was spreading wildly, now consuming most of the hotel rooms and blocking their way forward. They rounded a corner, searching for the exit to the stairway, until a wall of fiery debris exploded and barricaded their path.

"Shit!" Nick cried. He turned and slammed into one of the only unlit rooms, a janitorial closet, and dragging Rochelle by the wrist with Ellis and Coach trailing after them.

"Look, we can walk on the balconies," Rochelle pointed out, awkwardly freeing herself from his grasp and pointing outside of a window. "Let's get out of here."

She ran up to the window, turned her head, and bust the pane with the crowbar. Then she hopped out onto the ledge, not waiting for them to follow. The rest of the gang did the same, except for Coach, who stared out for a second while hesitating. Nick stopped as well, watching Coach sympathetically. He held out his hand.

"C'mon, Coach, don't look down," he encouraged him. "Stay close to the wall, and keep your eyes on Rochelle. It's not that far a drop anyway."

"You guys ain't as heavy as me, though," he said, positioning himself on the ledge carefully. He leaned against the wall and side-stepped as quickly as he could toward them, until he heard Rochelle scream and the blast of a gun.

"Shit, they're comin' this way!" Ellis shouted, backing up into Nick, who began to stumble. "Back up, back up!"

"Watch it, Ellis!" Nick yelled sorely.

The window on the opposite end of the hotel had burst, now pouring with a crowd of infected things, some charging at them and some spilling over the edge to their final death. They stumbled over each other to get to them, their mouths gaping and bellies rounded from just having recently fed. Rochelle swung her crowbar, sending two of them flying from the ledge but throwing her off balance. Just as she was about to topple over the balcony after them, Ellis caught hold of her arm, and Nick of Ellis. Using each other as leverage, they hauled Rochelle back onto her feet, who immediately sank back against the wall with her hands to her head.

"Stay down!" Ellis commanded, pointing his shotgun at the horde. "C'mon, you sons-a-bitches!"

Pump after pump, Ellis blasted them to bits, knocking the corpses over the sides until he could fire no more. The horde seemed to never end, as more of them came running. Ellis searched his pockets in a panic, retrieving a few shells and struggling to reload them. All of a sudden, Nick pressed his hand against Ellis, pinning him to the wall. He then aimed his tiny P220 pistol and fired at the creatures, nailing every single one of them in the head for ten consecutive shots. The horde soon trickled into a quartet, eagerly tripping over the bodies that had piled messily on the balconies and plunging to their eminent death.

"Great shot, Nick," Coach said from behind him.

"No problem, big guy," he replied, blowing at the tip of his handgun. "Magazine's completely out though."

"Alright, I got my gun loaded," Ellis declared, slightly envious. "Let's go."

Rochelle shakily stood to her feet, moving forward with her hands and back on the wall. She never said a word until she reached the window where they had come from, and plunged through to safety...from falling. A few more of the infected charged upon noticing her, ending in their demise as she crushed them with her makeshift weapon. When the room was cleared, she buckled to her knees, trembling with shock. The rest entered after her, scoping out the room as well. Nick was the first to offer her his hand.

"Hey, you're not done yet," he tried to reassure her as she took his hand gingerly and stood. "C'mon, we got your back."

"Hey, y'all, there's guns here," Ellis said, holding out two more pistols he retrieved from a writing desk for Rochelle and Nick. "Take 'em so we can git outta here once an' for all."

Coach was peering out into the hallway, then turned and faced the survivors.

"Looks like the exit stairs are a couple doors down," he said gruffly. "There's a big group in front of the elevator across from it. You guys ready?"

Nick checked the chamber of his pistol, cocked it, and nodded; Rochelle did the same. Ellis pumped his shotgun, a smirk playing at his youthful features.

"Ready."

"Let's go."

"Oh, wait," Nick said, running over the tear the drapes from the window. "I've got an idea."

They all ran out into the blazing hallway, alerting a dense horde that had accumulated next to the elevator shaft as they did so. Coach swung his bat at a few that were in the way, running full speed toward the emergency exit staircase with the gang closely behind. Ellis and Rochelle opened fire at the clump, catching a few and knocking the horde back. They reached the exit, with Coach plunging the doors open with his body weight and Rochelle and Ellis jumping in after. Nick was still in the hallway, dragging the curtains that were now on fire toward the exit.

"What the hell is he doin'?" Rochelle voiced in disbelief.

Ellis was holding the door open, blasting slugs at the closest targets to Nick until he reached the door with the drapes still in hand. When they were all inside, he let the curtains drop in front of the door to create a fire wall and keep the creatures out.

"Let's go," he said, and the group continued down the staircase into a thicker shroud of black smoke.

The four soon began hacking as they reached the first floor and thrust open the emergency exit into the empty lobby of the Vannah. The receptionists were strewn over the front desk, mutilated beyond all recognition; bodies of the same gruesome fate were piled up alongside the walls, some covered with blankets but most out in the open, including the Hazmat suited workers. None were animated, and most were missing chunks of their skulls and abdomens. Behind the group, another wall of the hotel exploded into wildfire, completely engulfed; ahead of the survivors across the plaza was the lounge, whose oak doors had been replaced by cast iron ones with protective bars.

"Look ahead!" Coach shouted. "It looks safe in there! Get inside!"

"Oh, thank God," Rochelle exhaled, upon reaching the safe room. "I need to sit down."

Once they all gathered inside, Nick and Coach sealed the door and barricaded it with most of the furniture inside the office.

"Ha-ha!" Ellis exclaimed joyfully. "We make a pretty damn good team!"

"It ain't over yet, kid," Coach said, walking over to the exit on the opposite end and staring out onto the street. "We only checked out of a hotel. We still need to get to the mall."

The outbreak had now become an northeastern pandemic and was quickly spreading south. Outside the walls of the hotel in swarms, the infected had multiplied. They lingered about endlessly in the streets, fighting among each other, vomiting while overcome with the sickness, and grumbling like weary animals. Many were missing limbs and bleeding, but that didn't seem to phase them; not as much as the lack of fresh meat did. They were on an endless search of their next feed and would relent for nothing until they found it. Somewhere off in the greater distance, gun shots and explosions could be heard, indicating that there were other survivors besides the four stuck in the front of a grand hotel now consumed by fire.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER*** I DO NOT own any of the Left 4 Dead 2 characters or title, obviously; everything is solely inspired by the original games created by Valve.


	2. The Streets

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Dead Center, Part Two_

"What's it lookin' like, Coach?" Nick asked, loading his new found silenced sub-machine gun with a packed magazine.

"It's lookin' like the gah-damn apocalypse," he replied crisply, then turned around and shook his head. "Everybody's dead. Sorta."

Rochelle rested her head against the wall and sighed loudly, bringing both of her trembling hands to her temples.

"I can't _believe_ I'm stranded in Savannah," she groaned.

"Man, Savannah's awesome!" Ellis protested happily. "C'mon, I'll show you the sights on the way to the mall."

"Okay I guess..."

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt you two," Nick quipped sorely. "But if we're gonna make it to the next evac station, we should probably head out now."

"This man's talkin' some sense," Coach added, grabbing a shotgun sitting on top of a desk and loading the chamber. "Who knows how long the next chopper'll be there."

With that being said, he dropped the security bar from the door and pushed it open with a faint creaking noise. They cautiously stepped out into the parking lot, creeping alongside the overturned CEDA vans with their weapons wielded tightly. There were only a few groups of about three or four infected civilians scattered about, lurking in the green tents where the makeshift medical stations had been installed. The infected moved much like animals, their heads cocked and limbs positioned, ready to strike their next victims on sight. They sniffed around like curs in the alley, even licked trails of blood from their decaying skin and emitted low growling noises. The survivors crouched down behind one of the trailers reading Disease Emergency Assessment Dispatch and searched around with their eyes.

"I know a gun store we can stop at along the way," Ellis said brightly. "So we can get ourselves some _real _weapons."

"I guess living here is finally starting to pay off," Nick retorted, much to Coach's disdain.

"Mister, I don't think I like your attitude," he growled.

"Whatever."

"Alright guys, how're we gonna get there?" Rochelle interrupted, pointing her gun toward the crowded lot. The flashing sign that had once pointed to the hotel now read "CEDA EVAC, LIBERTY MALL" and was adorned with mutilated bodies. "Everything is blocked off!"

"Follow me," Ellis replied, and scuffled across the street toward a line of port-o-potties, then ducked behind an abandoned squad car. "We can make it through the back of the electric maint'nance buildin', and pro'lly end up on Interstate 16 heading west."

"And that leads to...?" Nick began, but was cut off by Coach.

"Liberty Mall."

"Sounds like a plan," Rochelle said, and stood up from behind the car, alerting several of the milling infected and raining bullets from her Magnum into them. "Let's go."

"Wait, I think we should -" Ellis began, still crouched behind the police car.

He was interrupted by the sounds of gunshots exploding from smoking barrels, hitting the targeted infected that screeched before kissing the ground in permanent death. Rochelle, Coach and Nick had all advanced on the scattered horde, whom had succumbed to vulnerability by being isolated; they were half way down the street already before Ellis caught up to them, holding a bottle of painkillers and a stamped and labeled vile of some thick green substance. He placed them both in his pockets and retrieved the pump-action shotgun slung around his shoulder, joining his comrades in temporary battle, until they reached the system maintenance building and ran inside. He pulled out the vile and showed it to the other survivors, who only looked at him like he was a maniac.

"What is it?" Rochelle asked. "It looks like throw-up."

"I dunno, I found it on one-a the Hazmats," Ellis replied, opening it. "I think it could be useful."

"God, that reeks!" Nick cried, holding his nose. "Close it back up!"

The door to the building suddenly started to bang on the other side. Some of those things had followed them and were desperate to get in.

"What now, Einstein?" Nick quipped.

"We keep runnin'," Coach said, descending the asphalt steps.

They reappeared into a small room filled with stacked cardboard boxes and empty shelves. On the right hand side was a door leading back into the street; presumably, Interstate 16. They opened the door carefully and descended the steps, stopping near an abandoned red truck to search around for trouble. Once cleared, they passed beneath the tunnel and reappeared on the other side, where the rest of the road had been successfully barricaded by cast iron fences.

"Oh, that's great," Nick griped bitterly. "CEDA is real useful."

"That ain't the only way to the mall, Nick," Ellis said, stepping over the guard rail into a field median. "Come on."

They passed through the field and came to Montgomery Street heading east, which had also been blocked off. Before Nick could complain any further, Ellis motioned for them to climb over a dumpster, which they did, albeit reluctantly.

"Well, I'll be damned," Nick said, as he read the NEXT EXIT sign leading to the mall. "A shortcut."

"Through here, y'all," Coach instructed, heading up a flight of steps of a back alley building that warned against trespassers. "We're almost there."

They entered through the back door of the building and came to a maintenance warehouse that had a table set up with a pile of unopened packages of ammunition. The survivors took sparingly, loading their weapons and storing away future necessity. Then they came to another flight of stairs, probably leading to the Interstate highway on an overpass, ascended them, and opened the door. A low rumbling suddenly resounded through the air, although nothing was occupying the streets as far as they could see.

"You hear that?" Rochelle inquired.

"Sounds like a dog," Nick said. "Probably a stray."

"Jump on the truck," Coach said, leaping from the overpass onto the CEDA company vehicle and then to the street below.

Down the street in front of a blockage of squad cars and dispatch trucks was another flashing sign indicating the next evacuation station. The four read it and felt relieved, however mildly; none of them said a word as they came to another back alley building with stairs leading to the sky bridge across the Interstate. Again, a growl bubbled in the atmosphere, the source of which was still unknown. This time all four of the survivors could hear it clearly, as though it were near.

"That doesn't sound good," Rochelle whispered, clutching her crowbar until her knuckles turned pale.

"A mutant dog," Nick whined, starting toward the staircase after Coach and Ellis.

"Be quiet," Rochelle ordered. "That doesn't sound like a dog, Nick."

"Whatever."

She followed cautiously, walking backward to ensure protection. Once she reached the sky bridge, her shoulders dropped and so did her guard. She rejoined the others, running the span of the bridge until the bright yellow sign of Whitaker's Gun Store came into view, much to their delight (specifically Ellis's).

"Hey I recognize that sign!" Ellis shouted excitedly. "We're almost there!"

He disappeared down the flight of steps and gunfire could be heard, along with animalistic cries of agony from the infected and a slew of curse words from Nick. She followed after them, entering through the back alley and into an arsenal emporium unlike she had ever seen before. Ellis pranced around as would an excited child in a candy store, taking hold of an M-16 assault rifle, several preloaded magazine clips, and a tactical shotgun from the walls adorned with various firearms.

"This is so cool," he said blithely, fondling the rifle in his hands. "I've wanted this rifle since I was nine."

"Should we leave some money?" Coach asked, picking a hunting rifle and .45 Colt pistols from a shattered display case.

"I'm not legally allowed to own a gun," Nick said, fingering a combat shotgun lovingly. "Hope everyone's okay with that."

"I'll snipe," Rochelle said, taking the scoped rifle from the shelf and peering through it. "This feels right."

"What are you doing now, Ellis?" Nick inquired, watching as he fiddled with the door handle and a call button on the wall above it.

"The door won't budge," he replied without looking up. "It's locked."

Suddenly, a gruff, cheerful voice erupted from the call box and startled the survivors.

"Hello there!" it began.

"Holy shit, someone's alive!" Ellis exclaimed, unaware that he was still holding onto the call button.

"Yessir," it replied. "I've successfully barricaded myself with ample provisions. However, in my haste, I forgot cola. Now I've got a proposition to make."

The four stared at the call box in anticipation, wielding their stolen weapons with a slight twinge of guilt.

"If you can get me a pack of cola from the store," the voice continued. "I'll blow up the barrier leading to the mall... and I'll even let you keep the guns you stole from me."

"Mister, if you let me have this gun, I'll get you anything you want." Rochelle said.

"Well? How 'bout it?" the voice asked.

"You've got yourself a deal," Nick said. "Let's do this."

They armed themselves appropriately, proceeding toward the exit and reappearing on the balcony overlooking the street to the mall. As every other entrance prior, their last route was effectively and heavily fortified by walls and an enormous gas tanker. The survivors stood quietly for a few moments, wishing away the barricade with their eyes and allowing their despair to pass into the atmosphere on their exhalations. With the man's voice booming clearly in the loudspeakers behind them, they pressed on toward the Save 4 Less drugstore across the median and stood in front of its glass doors disdainfully. Their weapons examined, cocked and loaded, Nick was the first to kick open the doors and sound the vicious alarm.

"Shit, run!" Ellis yelled, standing in the threshold with his rifle.

With that said, Nick and Rochelle disappeared into the drugstore while Ellis and Coach manned the front doors. In the closing distance, the cries of many alerted infected approaching at rapid rate resounded, a much more bitter sound than that of the screaming burglar alarm. The echoes of their pounding footsteps could also be heard above the noise like soldiers marching into war, though they were hardly walking; Ellis and Coach gripped their weapons with trembling hands, anticipating the arrival of the horde that seemed to be endless with each encounter. Inside the store, Rochelle and Nick struggled to find the desired package of soda pop, the pressure of a quickly deteriorating time frame and the blaring alarm frazzling their concentration.

"Got it!" Rochelle said. "Let's go!"

"Uh, guys!" Ellis shouted, spotting the first signs of the crowd. "Hurry up!"

"RUN!" Nick screamed, running past Coach and Ellis after Rochelle.

Her legs carried her as fast as humanly possible, her vision solely focused on the gun store some thousand yards ahead of her.

"Keep going Rochelle, I'll cover you!" Nick said, as the sound of his combat shotgun blasted through the air and meshed with the current ensemble of noise.

As she ran on, the package held tightly in her hands, she could see bodies charging toward her and dropping at the same momentum with the impact of the raining bullets. The wind whipped her flushed cheeks and her lungs already turned to wildfire inside her chest as she crossed the field median, coming to the parking lot below the gun store. Behind her, she could hear the men dispensing their gun magazines into the stampeding horde, following as closely behind her as they could. She suddenly heard a bovine roar boom in the air behind her and something slamming into the hood of an abandoned truck; she didn't, however, stop to look until she reached the stairs and something clawed at her feet, tripping her.

She caught her balance and stumbled up the staircase, whirling around just in time to see a hooded figure crouching at the base. Its face was hidden by the hood of its ragged sweater, except for its mouth, which gaped open and revealed a wicked set of chiseled canines that glistened as the sunlight illuminated it. The familiar growl that Rochelle had once heard now started again, this time from the creature. The flesh that was exposed was dappled in festering sores, and in compensation for finger- and toenails, elongated talons had appeared. Its clothes were ripped and coated in blood that had partially dried to a brown crust and was beginning to flake. Releasing another roar from its throat, the creature leapt from the base of the staircase and soared into the air toward Rochelle, who quickly moved aside to see it collide into potted plants and crush them.

She had no more time to think, however, because the creature was already shaking itself off and was accompanied by more of the infected. With one free hand, she unsheathed her Magnum pistol and dispensed some bullets into the oncoming infected, turned around and began to sprint through the walkway toward the designated destination. She could already hear the special infected growling and steadying itself for another attack. As that shrill sound resonated once more, she twisted around just in time to smash her elbows into the creature and cause it to waver for a minute. Without any further hesitation she powered past the empty stores toward the white door, all the sounds of gunshots and the shrieks of the infected synchronizing into nothingness as she reached her destination and dropped the package into the slot.

At the exact moment she spun around, the hooded infected pummeled into her, knocking her head against the steel frame door and pinning her to the ground in one dizzying collision. The last of her breath shot from her lungs as she let out the most potent scream she could muster beneath its burdening weight before its claws hailed down into her stomach. As she fought the creature, she could feel its nails tearing her t-shirt to ribbons and raking the skin on her abdomen, igniting a white hot pain that seemed to blind her.

"Somebody get this thing off me!" she wailed, desperately pounding her gradually weakening fists anywhere she could reach.

"Ho-ly shit, what is that?" she could hear Ellis inquire.

"That thing's on Rochelle!"

"SHOOT IT!"

Then the sound of bullets raining down into the creature comforted Rochelle, splattering blood all over her. With one final whimpering cry the special infected fell to the side with the expression of voracious hunger forever etched on its disgusting features. As the world started fading to black, the sound of a violent explosion literally shocked new life into her; all four of the survivors turned to see the barricade being bombed down by some kind of grenade or rocket launcher with one blast to the gas tanker. Before she could jolt up, the pain of her gashed abdomen and the pounding in her skull forced her back into the concrete with an agonizing groan.

"Guys, I don't feel so good..." she muttered miserably, clasping the wound with blood running through her fingers.

"Hold on," Nick responded, kneeling down next to her and unsheathing his medical kit. "Let Doctor Nick fix ya up."

She gazed up at him despite the blinding rays of the sun and could see several scratches on his face as well as a welt on his cheekbone that looked fairly knew. His white suit was painted with blood and brain matter and already ripped in many places; the rose that was once poised handsomely in his jacket pocket was now smashed and wilted; his face, though beaten, remained calm and optimistic, surprisingly enough. He took the bottle of peroxide from his kit and poured a generous stream onto her gash, causing her to wince with the burning sensation that bubbled from it. Swabbing the froth that appeared at the site of the wound, he began to wrap protective gauze around her midriff without so much as a blush on his behalf. It was the first time she was able to study his features since they had met and the first time she realized that no matter how much of a smart ass he was, he was still indescribably good looking.

"There," he said, placing the used supplies back into the package and abandoning it. "All better."

He offered Rochelle his hand and she took it gratefully, rising to her feet despite the stinging discomfort. No one had any time to notice that most of her shirt had become strips of orange cloth as Nick took hold of one of her arms and slung it around his neck, supporting her with his free arm and continuing toward the mall. They limped forward, their hopes high and their bodies exhausted; they said nothing as they reached the smoldering ashes of what was once a barricade and stepped over into the vast parking lot of the Liberty Mall. Scattered throughout the lot were makeshift medical stations beneath the signature green CEDA tents and piles of uncovered bodies, but no sign of any evacuation.

"I swear to God CEDA better be in that mall." Ellis stated bitterly.


	3. Liberty Mall

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Dead Center Finale_

It had been hours that the group of four survivors had been wandering the infested mall. The promise of a safe evacuation had long been overcome by the fact that the center was completely overrun by hordes of the infected close to the thousands, and there were no signs of vehicles leaving for safety. The only positive feat that had been borne of their travesty was that they obtained fairly knew clothes, burglarized the abandoned stores for useful items and had found plenty of provisions. Although the food court had been chain-link fenced and devastated by what seemed to be caused by gunfire and violent struggles, most of the packaged food (although there wasn't much) had managed to remain, much to the survivors' relief.

They had made it to a storage room of the building and were successfully barricaded in the safe room installed by CEDA at the opposite end of the mall from which they had come. It was unclear how long they had spent in the room, but likely it had been close to four hours and the sun outside, although they could not see, was probably beginning to set. They had been able to rest albeit limited to their advantage, stock up on needed supplies and plan an escape; the only sign of life was the autographed poster of a stock car driver on the wall in the very room they resided in.

"I love malls. I do," Ellis began happily. "Me an' my buddy Keith went to this one mall in Atlanta one time, and there were these guys dancin' for like money an' stuff, and -"

"We ain't got time for this, Ellis," Coach growled.

"Okay..."

Rochelle and Nick shared a stifled chuckle as they proceeded to loading their weapons and appropriately arming themselves with ammunition laid out on a table that had been set up near the exit. She gingerly began to fix the bandages that had started to tear from several more encounters with the infected, swabbing the wound that had already began to heal with peroxide from her first aid kit. After replacing the gauze, she abandoned the now useless package, stood up and waited for the others to do the same.

"Aw, that's Jimmy Gibbs, Jr.!" Ellis exclaimed excitedly upon noticing the poster. "He was s'posed to be here in Savannah and we missed 'im! That's it. Them zombies have just made themselves an enemy."

"Who the hell is Jimmy Gibbs, Jr.?" Nick asked, feigning his interest.

"I heard-a Jimmy Gibbs!" Coach shouted gleefully. "Man is a stock car legend!"

"I'm gettin' sick of looking at this guy's face."

"Around these parts he's as famous as... Elvis," Coach added. "Or the President."

"Really?" Nick said. "'Cause he looks like an asshole."

"Now that was just uncalled for," Ellis responded. "Seriously. Jimmy Gibbs is the _man. _If the laws of nature allowed it... I would bear that man's children."

"Can we _please_ just get out of this place?" Rochelle chimed in as she always seemed to do.

Coach had ripped a page from the walls of the storage room that was scribbled over with the words "CEDA SUCKS" over it, and began to read. The corners of his mouth turned upward into a smirk and he shook his head, laughing inwardly while his eyes danced along the paper.

"Report unusual behavior," he began. "Barricade your homes. Avoid all contact with infected individuals. Wait for official instructions-"

He tossed the paper aside, chuckling through his nostrils and taking a deep bite from a chocolate bar.

"Wait my ass."

"Kill all sons-a-bitches," Ellis responded brashly, pumping his semi-automatic tactical shotgun with a haughty grin. "That's _my_ 'fficial instructions."

Nick and Rochelle exchanged dubious glances, then proceeded to opening the familiar cast iron door and stepping out into a hallway. A few infected were milling around and were shot before being able to take notice of them and alert the others; the four continued through the dimly lit walkway, reappearing on the third floor of the mall and into a construction site. They crossed the scaffolding as it groaned beneath them, making their way to a glass elevator and reluctantly entering it.

"You guys ever seen anything like this?" Ellis asked, his hands pressed inquisitively to the transparent casing.

"No-sirree-bob," Nick replied, peering over his shoulder at the atrium of the mall beneath.

"It's cool to see new things..." Ellis began, his attention suddenly averted to the ocean of infected that had swarmed at the base of the elevator. "Ho-ly shit..."

"Hey, kill all sons-a-bitches, right?" Rochelle inquired before they descended. "Anybody got an escape plan?"

It was quiet for a moment before Ellis mischievously piped up.

"So I been thinkin'... and now I only been thinkin'," he began. "Jimmy Gibbs' stock car is around here somewhere. Now I figure we can find it, gas it up, an' I can drive that thing to New Orleans my damn self!"

"Alright," Rochelle was the only to respond. "So plan A: we fill the car with enough gas to get us out of the mall."

"What's plan B?" Coach asked.

"We die," Nick said flatly. "I agree to the idea, but I'm driving."

"Actually, I think the person who came up with the idea is driving," Ellis responded.

"What a fun road trip this will be."

The elevator gave a lurch as it began to descend into the atrium swarmed with zombies. The whirring of its mechanics went uninterrupted by elevator music, because there was none; the survivors stood for a few moments, soundless and overcome with nerves. They gripped their weapons in their hands, quivering with anxiety, checking and double-checking chambers in case they needed to be reloaded. The number on the floor count screen dropped from 3, to 2, to 1, and when it changed to indicate they had reached the lobby, the doors opened with a dissatisfying ding.

Infected numbered close to the hundreds turned their heads curiously, the sound attracting their attention mildly until they noticed the humans inside. Upon realizing they were edible, they all cried out as if in unison, their awkward mouths gaping and faces wrenched with raging hunger. The survivors said nothing, simply dispensed their clips into the oncoming crowd of zombies until the last one fell in a bleeding heap onto the others.

"This is gonna get ugly," Rochelle whispered, stepping over the mutilated corpses that had piled on the floor and into the otherwise relatively clean atrium. Despite the growing odor of decaying substances, the scent of paint and wood lingered in the air, indicating the youth of the central area.

"Well, I found two already," Nick said, picking up a couple of gas cans that had been strategically placed next to the elevator shaft. "How much you think we'll be needing, Ellis?"

"Ellis?"

The three survivors turned their heads in search of the fourth, whom had disappeared amidst the bustle of warfare. He was already magnetized to the stock car and was lovingly observing it, his hands stroking its sleek royal blue sides. They followed after him, amazed at how quickly he managed to reach the car without their notice.

"Whatever we can find," he replied, without looking at them. "My guess is there won't be much. This is a mall, after all."

"Oh, well that's encouraging," Nick griped.

"He's right," Rochelle said, without looking up from loading a new magazine into her hunting rifle. "What kinda mall sells gas?"

"Listen up, y'all," Coach suddenly said. "I'm guessin' the rest of hell on earth is makin' its way towards us right about now. We'll split up in two and meet back here with whatever we got in thirty minutes. Understood?"

"What if we can't find anything?" Nick asked as he poured the gasoline into the car's gas tank.

"Make do with what we got," Coach replied. "We'll have to find a gas station somewhere."

"I'll team up with Coach," Ellis said, loading his assault rifle with a fresh magazine. "That leaves you an' Chelle."

There was silence between the team as they departed from the pedestal and began their scavenge. They had split up to opposite ends of the mall with nothing but their weapons and a silent prayer, uncertain if there was even any of the desired gasoline to spare. As they began their trek up the stairs, the mall was soundless and unsettling. Except for the occasional one-sided laughter from Ellis somewhere inside the atrium and the echoes of their footsteps, everything seemed oddly still. It was literally like the quiet before a raging storm; the survivors searched with apprehension, hurrying among the construction that would forever go unfinished. The rotten smell of decay began to thicken, and after about ten minutes, a sound like thunder reverberated through the entire mall.

"Here they come," Nick muttered heatedly, pumping his combat shotgun. "Get ready."

"Who's stupid idea was it to look for gas in a fucking shopping mall?" Rochelle barked, pushing her way through the wreckage of a demolished store.

There was no more time to complain, however, because their voices were replaced by the loud banging of metal. The cries of the infected resounded like sirens blaring, followed by the pounding of feet against mosaic tile in a stampede. A door located beside them began to dent with trauma, indicating the first signs of the horde assuring to be plenty more. Instinctively, both Rochelle and Nick powered their way back toward the stairs leading into the atrium; from the third floor, they could see Ellis in the lobby running like a madman toward the car, a bright orange gas can clutched in his arms and a trail of zombies following closely behind.

"Holy shit, shoot it!" Ellis screamed, as he whirled around to push the closest zombie away.

Rochelle immediately braced the hunting rifle with a veteran's precision against her shoulder, peering through the scope and picking off the entourage belonging to Ellis. She successfully dispensed fifteen rounds into the infected, allowing Ellis time to reach the vehicle. A sickening thud echoed from behind her and when she turned around, she saw that the dented door had collapsed with the weight of about twenty infected, now hauling their way toward her. She fumbled in her pockets for another magazine, stepping backward to begin to descend the staircase where Nick had disappeared. She grabbed the clip and struggled to reload it into the chamber while the infected closed the distance between them. By the time she managed to jam the magazine into her weapon, an infected swung out its bloody arm and knocked her backward down the short flight of steps. She landed with a crash and her rifle was thrown over the railing out of reach; the infected immediately charged after her.

Just as it reached her and was about to pin her down, she thrust out her legs and sent the infected hurling over the side of the staircase. Without any further hesitation, she pushed herself from the ground, ignoring the searing pain that started in the back of her head and back in her stomach. A trail of zombies followed after her, stumbling upon the steps and falling over each other to reach their victimized target. When she reached the atrium floor, Nick and Ellis were firing into the crowd mercilessly.

"Get down!" Nick demanded, pointing his gun in Rochelle's direction.

Although she was puzzled, she dove head first into the ground obediently and slid on the linoleum toward Nick, just as he fired ten rounds into the crowd that would have successfully reached her. The pain in her abdomen amplified as she landed, not necessarily going unnoticed but being brushed off as she reached the duo and searched around for Coach, who was no where in sight.

"Where the hell is Coach?"

The two didn't answer, however, because more and more of the infected began to cramp the atrium as though it were in business.

"Where the hell is your gun, Rochelle?" Nick shouted above the gunfire.

At the same moment, a violent mechanical roar blasted into the air, bouncing off the walls of the atrium. Somewhere among the crowd, bodies were falling in explosions of crimson, muffling the sound with each impact. As more of the infected fell to their demise in an obliterated heap, Coach appeared with an enormous chainsaw in his hands. The blades were covered in blood and body parts as he carved his way through the horde toward the other survivors.

"I found a fuckin' chainsaw!" he said breathlessly, upon reaching them.

"Congratulations," Nick replied, feigning his enthusiasm. "Did you find any _gas_?"

He shook his head, spinning around to annihilate an approaching zombie to bloody bits. There was a grunt from behind them; they turned around to see Rochelle karate-kicking a trio of infected and unleashing a slew of combat moves upon them until they fell unresponsive.

"Well niiice!" Ellis exclaimed.

"Look out now, Rochelle's openin' up a can o' whoop-ass!" Coach hollered.

She unsheathed the Magnum pistol that had been holstered on her thigh, jammed a fresh magazine into its chamber and cocked it. Without speaking, she planted bullets successfully between the eyes of several more oncoming zombies; when she was finished, she fell back against the wing of the car and sighed in exhaustion. The rest was short lived as an onslaught of infected came raining toward them; this time among the infected were some in hazardous material suits belonging to CEDA and were immune to fire.

"Oh, great," Rochelle mumbled. "Zombies in Hazmat suits."

Also among the new horde was a particular disgustingly stout infected that waddled as it stampeded forward. Its gray flesh was covered in bulbous growths, and although it appeared to have been overweight prior to the infection anyway, its belly had swollen to a ridiculous size; the clothes on its body were stretched over and ripped in areas that it could not manage to retain its stitching. As it came closer, it made gagging noises and belched loudly, emanating a foul smell that was deemed familiar by Ellis.

"Shoot the fat guy!" he said.

None of them stood still as they fired a series of bullets directly in its pathway. Before they could comprehend what had actually happened, there was a staggering boom that slammed them against the car and they suddenly found themselves drenched in sticky green slime.

"Christ in a hand basket!" Ellis cried, refraining from gagging. "I'm covered in goo!"

"Agh, what is this shit? It reeks!" Nick added, slapping the substance from his suit. "This is gonna ruin my damn suit."

"Oh my God," Rochelle moaned, dry-heaving. "Ugh, this is nasty!"

"Aw man, I can't see!"

The smell of the vomit seemed to further agitate the already hostile infected and at the sight of the covered survivors they all let out a shriek and powered forward with new found intensity. Nick was the first to get hit, colliding back into the car with his face plastered against the windshield. A team of infected began to pummel him angrily until Ellis and Rochelle regained their sense of sight and shouldered them off of him. The victory was brief; they never even had time to turn around before more of the zombies had flocked to them and began swinging amputated limbs with incredible strength.

"Fuck, I'm getting gang raped!" Nick shouted, punching the nearest target with much trouble and knocking a few of them back.

The firing of a Magnum handgun, an automatic M-16 assault rifle and the snarling of a chainsaw erupted from within the mosh pit as fragments of entrails and body bits began to fly through the air in generous chunks. The car was soon freshly coated with red paint, as was the roster hanging from the ceiling; the survivors managed to free themselves of the cramped horde, and the atrium fell quiet once again. Bruised, soaking with blood of their own and the infected and still dripping with vomit, the survivors exchanged dumbfounded glances as they stood on the pedestal with their weapons still smoking.

"What now?" Nick asked.

"How many gas cans we got?" inquired Ellis.

"Three," Rochelle said, pointing to the third container buried under a pile of corpses.

"I'll reckon that's enough to get us to the next gas station," Ellis responded, scratching his brown hair beneath his blue cap. "Hand it over."

He emptied the contents into the car, murmuring something about royalty as he did so. He went around the to the driver's side and climbed inside, disappearing for a moment. They could hear him fiddling with the contents of the car in attempt to hot wire it, since there was apparently no key or other means of starting the engine. After about five minutes or so, they heard a slight electrical buzz and a painful yell from Ellis.

"Oh-ma-gawd that hurt!" he grunted. "Dammit!"

His head reappeared within their line of sight, his relatively short hair standing on end in a static mess. To their relief, the comforting sound of the engine roaring to life exploded throughout the atrium; Ellis fixated himself in the seat, a smirk playing at his lips and his baby blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction as he gripped the steering wheel. The remaining three crawled into the stock car as well, doing the best they could to tolerate the lack of spaciousness.

"Holy shit it worked!"

"Let's get the hell outta here!" Coach said, slapping the roof of the car and emitting a triumphant shout.

All of the survivors let out cheerful cries as the stock car propelled forward and mowed through an entirely new horde that had just entered the atrium. With one violent twist of the steering wheel, the stock car swerved around and rocketed toward the bulletproof glass windows leading into the chaos outside.

* * *

**A/N: **My apologies if the story feels a little rushed. I tried my best to edit most of the unnecessary description of the mall and their encounters in it while keeping it realistic (mostly because in the game, there was only one event worth mentioning), although this chapter is longer than the previous. I hope you enjoyed!


	4. The Highway

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Dark Carnival, Part One_

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news guys, but unless Ellis knows how to build a monster truck, we _ain't_ drivin' through this," Nick stated.

He smoothed the wrinkled face of his white suit jacket, but to no avail; the blood stains would remain anyway. He and the rest of the group of four sighed, almost in unison, as the vehicle they currently resided in rolled to a stop. They climbed out of the beat up Jimmy Gibbs, Jr. stock car laden with body parts and smeared with blood; stepped out into the stagnant, unwelcoming night air to breathe in a rotten scent accumulating to the scene of wreckage ahead of them. Cars and inanimate corpses were piled on top of each other for miles on the Interstate 16 to Atlanta, thrown around like toys tossed about in a haste.

"Sorry guys," Ellis apologized softly. "Guess it wasn't such a hot idea after all."

"Looks like we're walkin'," Coach moaned, picking up his weapons and health package. "Better get to movin'."

"Hey y'all? Can I... have a second, alone, with the car? I, uh... I got some things that need sayin'," Ellis said, his voice almost crackling with genuine sadness. "Well, we had a good run, girl. You are the most beautiful thing I ever got to sit between. _I love you..._"

He wiped his nose and lovingly patted the hood. He retrieved his weapons and first aid kit, then proceeded to following the group into the mess of ruined vehicles littering the road. Their steps were carefully placed, quiet as possible as not to disturb anything that might be lurking in the darkness around them. A few yards ahead stood the bright face of a billboard, reading the directions to an oncoming amusement park. Both Coach and Ellis' expressions drastically enlightened at the very sight of its flamboyant lettering.

"Hey, that's Whisperin' Oaks!" Coach cried blithely. "Shit, I used to go there all the time as a kid!"

"Oh good, now we can die there as adults," Nick retorted, but was ignored. "These abandoned cars go on for miles!"

"Maybe they left them when they got rescued."

"That's...one theory."

The group continued forward, their guns gripped securely in their tired hands as they climbed over and weaved through the miles of debris. So far, there were little signs of anything animated, except for the occasional lonesome infected wandering among the wreckage. The night was still and soundless; not even the singing crickets or the chirp of cicadas could be heard. They reached an exit ramp and continued through it, their guns fixated on anything that showed any movement. An overturned military vehicle and several eighteen-wheeler trucks haphazardly decorated the road ahead of them, leading to another makeshift blockade presumably created by CEDA. A spill of ammunition and a flickering lamp cluttered the ground next to the Humvee, as did several piles of rotten bodies; the asphalt was streaked with drying blood turning brown with age. As they carefully paced beneath the highway overpass, two searchlights explored the gray sky some distance ahead of them. Rochelle was happily the first to notice this.

"Look, guys! Searchlights!" she cried in relief.

"That's the first sign-a life we seen in a hunnert miles," Ellis suddenly responded.

Both their eyes fastened on the beams of light slicing through the sky, they failed to notice that Coach had stopped mid step and rammed into each other upon bumping him. He seemed to be listening to something, the source of which was unknown.

"Hey, Coach, now's not the time for a break," Nick hissed, trying to urge them forward. Coach, however, lifted a hand in the air and signaled him to be quiet. "C'mon, Coach. There's nothing out here."

"Quiet."

"What is it, Coach?" Ellis asked.

"Well if you fools would just shut _up_, maybe I could find out!" Coach barked.

The four stopped in their tracks, listening to whatever sound was being carried on the quiet air. He couldn't decipher certainly, but it seemed to register to him that the sound was of squealing tires. That, or an angry horde of screeching infected zombies. Being that they hadn't seen civilization fully (and technically) alive in hours, he cocked his hunting rifle and decided on the latter. Coach turned to the rest of the gang, his face stern and merciless.

"I think we got company, guys," he said gruffly. "Git your asses ready for a fight."

"We sure as hell _do_ got some company!" Ellis shouted merrily, pointing toward the overpass ahead of them and laughing. "Look, y'all! People! Ha-ha-haaa!"

They all turned and gazed as a pickup truck came speeding down the overpass ahead of them, swerving violently as several infected creatures clung to the sides, screaming with rage and desperate to reach their whoever was inside. The truck headed in the direction of a blockade of fallen freighter trucks; the outcome was surely going to be gruesome.

"People, or what was once a person," Nick said.

"Naw, everybody knows a zombie can't drive, Nick," Ellis replied, oblivious to his sarcasm.

The sound of gunfire concluded his hypothesis, and he grinned triumphantly. The victory was very short lived, however; following the shots was the pounding of feet against asphalt, homing in on their location at high velocity. The calamity had obviously attracted the attention of a horde, now in pursuit of their victimized targets with the intensity of a pack of wolves. At the same moment, an awkward laugh reminiscent to the braying of a donkey lingered in the air, although it was only Nick and Ellis who caught the sound before it faded off.

"The hell are you laughin' at, Ellis?" Nick inquired.

Ellis only shrugged, for the wicked snickering hadn't come from him. The others ignored this as an explosion indicating a collision joined the ensemble, and they all raced toward a hill stretching into the overpass from which it had come. They weaved through cars, the sounds becoming louder and accumulating to their anxiety; the curious laugh also grew louder, like it was closing in, until it was so vivid that it appeared to be coming directly behind Ellis. Suddenly, he felt something grab hold of his head and slam him into the hood of a nearby car. Whatever was clinging to him was cackling maniacally and making it difficult to keep his balance as the weight of it caused him to stumble backward.

"A-a-a-gh!" Ellis cried, before disappearing behind the lineage of cars.

Nick was the only of the other survivors to turn around and witness what was happening. The creature wore an evil, chipped tooth grin from ear to ear, its bulging yellow eyes alight like flames and void of any human emotion or comprehension; it was short and hunched-back, and it appeared to have been either an older man or a child prior to being infected. Its arms were long and thin, much like a monkey, and it was fixated securely on Ellis' shoulders, influencing his movement. It was throwing itself around, yanking Ellis in every direction that it moved; this seemed to greatly amuse whatever it was, because the intensity of its guffawing only seemed to escalate while Ellis fought to remain on his feet.

"Oh shit!" Nick cursed, unsheathing his combat shotgun and firing.

The wicked infected was painfully agile though, maneuvering Ellis with the influence of its weight with unbelievable precision; Nick, enraged by the struggle caused by such an annoying zombie, was forced to chase after it and had much difficulty trying to aim directly at it and avoid shooting Ellis. Its demented laughter had morphed practically into screaming, seemingly enjoying the entire ordeal, almost taunting Nick with its heinous tantrum.

"Stop fuckin' running around, Ellis!"

"Get this thing off me!" was the only phrase he could administer above the clamor.

Nick could see Ellis beginning to fight against the influence, throwing himself against one of the many vehicles in attempt to shake off the special infected; this method only mildly seemed to work, for its movement had decreased from outrageous hysterics to writhing in pain. However, the thing maintained its position clamped on Ellis' back like a little monkey, and was now beginning to tear at his hair with rage. Ellis cried out in agony, begging Nick to hurry and deliver either a coups de grâce or get the damned thing off his back. With unsteady hands, Nick aimed the best he could as the creature yanked Ellis around, firing several shots and fortunately, hitting its direct target with more potent deranged laughter. The infected gave one final whinny and collapsed from his shoulders in a tattered heap on the ground, the malignant grin permanently frozen on its strange face. Ellis, struggling to regain his balance, caught hold of Nick's arm and steadied himself.

"What the hell was _that_?" Nick barked. "That thing was riding you!"

"I dunno man," Ellis replied, shivering with disorientation. "That was just humiliatin'."

It only took seconds for them to see the quickly approaching horde of zombies closing the distance between them, and immediately they retrieved their weapons and fired among them. With several blasts from their guns, the infected fell one by one, but the onslaught seemed endless and both Ellis and Nick had no choice but to retreat toward the other survivors. Scaling the face of the hill leading into the overpass, they rejoined Coach and Rochelle, whom had just witnessed the collision with little hope of survivors to escape from it. The truck that they had seen earlier had apparently collided with one of the many immobile vehicles, flipped, and smashed into an eighteen wheeler. The wheels of the truck were still spinning crazily as the infected pinned beneath the truck finally died.

"You think they survived that crash?" Rochelle asked, already sure of her answer.

Ellis was the only one not to hesitate to approach the vehicle still smoldering from the impact. His hopes had been the highest of the four of them, and apparently this scenario wasn't about to change that.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he called, throwing his hands up in the air as he reached the truck. A series of shots powered through the window, ignoring his plight, and Ellis took a giant leap backward while covering his head with his arms. "Gah-dammit, I said don't shoot! We ain't zombies, man!"

The door of the pickup truck suddenly burst forward, and out came crawling a little Caucasian lady and her dark-skinned male partner, covered in blood. Their ragged clothes had several rips and stains on them, obvious signs of struggle prior. If they had been bitten, it was unclear, but the gang certainly didn't doubt it; if they were infected was what needed to be known. She staggered to her feet, grasping an AK-47 rifle slung over her shoulder in one hand and cradling her head in the other. The man didn't seem to be armed, except for the sheath for a hunting knife strapped to his thigh, absent of its intended blade.

"You guys all right?" Ellis asked slowly, cautiously stepping toward them to see if they were to respond coherently. "That was one nasty lookin' collision..."

"Oh hell, do we _look_ all right?" cried the small girl, wiping a flow of blood from a gash in her head. "Damn near bust my noggin right through the window-shield...dad-gummit!"

"Hey, fellas, we don't got any time for bitching," Nick said, taking a step toward them just as the horde from earlier began to ascend the hill toward them. "This ain't over yet!"

"Run!" Rochelle screamed, pointing toward the billboard adjacent to the overpass.

The group and their new comrades powered forward, climbing through the billboard and onto the rooftop of a motel building. On the opposite end, a swarm of infected spilled over the highway and charged in their direction, scaling overturned freighters with incredible agility and relentlessly reaching for their targets. The six dropped down with loud thumps onto the rooftop, notifying more of the infected that had been milling around the abandoned parking lot of the motel.

"C'mon y'all! Hurry!" Coach said, running off the roof and onto the second floor of the building with the others following closely behind.

They ran past boarded up rooms that had been successfully broken into, old blood splattered generously over the walls and the scent of decay and burnt flesh very eminent in the atmosphere. Corpses of a few fallen survivors lay strewn in their hotel room crypts, most laying on the floor face down and others still wielding weapons, empty of their ammunition. The pounding of their feet on the walkway bounced off the walls and reverberated like a drum roll as they reached a part of the floor that had been blown out.

"Shit!"

"Through this room!" Ellis cried, opening the door and motioning them inside.

He shut it and for a moment, they took in the surroundings; the rooms were conjoined now that the wall that would have previously separated them had been broken through. A trail of darkening crimson led to a young girl slumped against the wall, her head forever resting against a desk with a pile of weapons a short ways from her reach. All of the survivors recoiled with sympathy, their eyes quickly darting from the morbid picture.

"Poor thing," the new girl suddenly said, shaking her head. "She must-a known what was comin'. Look here."

She picked up a P220 handgun and another pistol similar to the first, then showed the gang a little stash of used ammunition packages partially hidden beneath the desk. She kept the P220 to herself and handed the other one to Nick, who seemed almost offended that she would offer him such a small firearm. At his expression, she just shook her head and proceeded to packing the ammunition boxes in her knapsack. She then retrieved a small bag of sunflower seeds and popped several into her mouth, making sure to chew obnoxiously in his direction.

"A bullet's still a bullet sir, ain't none of them zombies gonna tell the difference."

They could hear the zombies racing each other toward their next victims like a deranged derivative of a game of tag. At Nick's declination, she kept the second pistol and offered a silenced sub machine gun to her quiet partner, who almost immediately knew how to load it. They pressed on through the busted hole in the wall into another room, and finally climbed out of a window just in time to see the infected take notice of their change of direction. They began spilling over the edge of the blown out walkway and not one of them stopped, their glowing eyes like hundreds of little laser sights focused on their targets.

"Back down the stairs, you guys!" Rochelle screamed, flying down the steps and disappearing behind the building.

"Keep runnin'! I'll hold 'em off!" the girl cried, aiming her two pistols into the approaching crowd and dispensing both the clips. Several of the infected toppled lifelessly to the floor, bringing down many more in their wake. "C'mon, you sons-a-bitches! C'mon!"

The magazines soon ran out and she tossed them into the crowd, hitting a couple in the head and now wielding her AK-47 rifle at the hip. She began to retreat behind the building as the group had, shooting at the closest targets to ensure every step she had to take. When she could no longer hold off the overwhelming horde, she took off toward the group, now cornered at the peak of a deep ravine.

"Looks like we ain't the only ones who thought of takin' this short-cut," Coach said, acknowledging a few torn sleeping bags, a tank of fuel and a burning lamp.

"Now what in tarnation- what are y'all standin' around for? C'mon!" hollered the girl, disappearing with her partner down the steep face of the gully and into the trees.

"Aw shit, that looks like fun!" Ellis cried, following after them.

"I don't believe it," Nick said sorely. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

"GO!" Rochelle screamed, noting that the zombies were coming toward them quickly.

She pushed Nick toward the edge and he and Coach jumped into the foliage beneath; then she grabbed the lamp from beside the sleeping bags and hurled it in front of the oncoming crowd, crushing it and igniting the infected, now thrashing in anguish (assuming they were capable of comprehending such) and dispersing. As more of the bodies, some engulfed in flames and some not, came hurling toward her, she shot the can of gasoline that had been resting against the picket fence and created an even bigger flame.

"Take that, bastards!" she screamed, and stepped off the ledge to slide toward the group waiting on the bottom. She collided with Nick, who had just finished brushing himself off and crash landed into the embankment of a shallow river, much to his irritation.

"Fuck, Rochelle!"

"Look, I don't know how long that's gonna hold 'em off," Rochelle said, ignoring him and continuing to step all over his back in order to get on her feet. "We gotta keep running and find some kinda safe house."

They waded as quickly as they could through the river, the sounds of the infected and their horrible shrieks resonating in the distance behind them. Splashes could be heard as the inflamed bodies fell from the gully into the river, disappearing beneath its surface only for a moment before bobbing to the top face down in silence. Each of the survivors had pursed lips and faces wrenched with dread as they soundlessly trudged through the idle embankment. The face of a hill ahead greeted them with glowing lights at its peak, relieving them of only some of their apprehension. They proceeded to climb the small hill quietly, except for Nick and his grumbling about the continuance of the ruination of his suit.

"We made it!" Ellis shouted, stumbling to the peak to gaze at the gates of Whispering Oaks. "Sh-i-i-et, we made it to Whisperin' Oaks, y'all!"

"He's like a five year old, with a _gun_," Nick grumbled to no one in particular. "and a comprehensive grasp of every cuss word in the English language."

"Get inside the trailer," Rochelle interrupted, pointing to an immobile trailer adjacent to the wall of the fairground. "Maybe they got some supplies."

The group of six headed into the trailer, sealing the entrance with what appeared to be the familiar installed cast iron door instead of a screen once everyone was safely inside. They immediately proceeded to barricade the door with an iron filing cabinet and an oak desk, then recoiled into their separate corners to catch their breath. Soaking wet, stinking of the blood and brain matter, sweat and filth caked to their clothes and skin, they each fell to the floor to recuperate...all except for Ellis, who was the only of the six survivors to maintain his impenetrable optimism.

"We are the kings of the world!" he proclaimed, punching the air with his rifle in his fist, uncoiling the tribal tattoo on his arm. "We make a right _damn_ good team!"

The rest of the group remained silent, recalling earlier events in their minds; even if this incident with the horde was mild (and they had faced much worse), the sheer reality of the situation was finally beginning to settle in. The new girl and her partner slumped against the opposite wall next to the exit, their eyes cast to the floor and their faces expressing grave stress. The girl placed a hand to her aching head and wiped the trail of blood continuing to dribble from the laceration in her forehead.

"Good heavens, this hurts," she groaned. "Damned zombies."

It was the first time since their encounter on the overpass that the original gang got a good look at their new comrades. The girl was short and thick-boned, with an unruly mess of charcoal colored curls matted against most of her milky face due to the blood that had dried in her hair. She wore violently ripped blue jeans and a flannel shirt that appeared to be for a man, stained almost beyond recognition with dirt and other things. Most of what was shown of her skin was banged up and scratched or dirty, including the pair of dark muddy eyes ringed purple and green with bruises; she looked more like a rooster that had just lost its cock fight than a person and her partner appeared no differently.

His swamp green t-shirt was almost completely torn to shreds, now reduced to loose strips clinging to his tattered caramel skin. His jeans were soaked in blood and river water and frayed in many places; he wore a red bandanna over his head that concealed most of his hair and highlighted the eyes that were dull with distress. The new couple remained absolutely quiet, their faces vacant and obviously lost in their own subconscious. The only thing that seemed to connect the pair was their hands wielding matching rosaries draped around their necks and the fact that they remained so close to each other. They said nothing, just fingered the beads and stared at the floor. Rochelle was the first to speak to them, retrieving a health package she found in the desk and offering it to them.

"Here," she said gingerly. "Clean yourselves up."

The man looked up and nodded at her, but remained soundless, although his green eyes expressed their sincerity to Rochelle; he seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn't, or didn't know how to. He nudged the girl next to him to a dormant state of consciousness and handed her the package; she looked up at Rochelle and offered her the best smile she could muster, although it didn't do any justice in expressing the honesty of the gratitude she felt.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," she said softly. "We 'ppreciate the hospitality."

The original group watched as the girl unveiled the kit and she and her partner began to nurse their many wounds in silence, except for the occasional hissing in pain and the very animated expressions of having to undergo such.

"You guys been bitten?" Nick finally asked, catching a disapproving glare from both Ellis and Coach. "That's how it works, right?"

The girl looked up from coiling protective gauze around her thigh and observed him for a minute. She seemed to be thinking.

"I'll reckon we're immune," she responded flatly, then continued to what she was doing. "We ain't turned yet."

Nick and Ellis shared a look, and then Ellis kindly broke the ice again.

"Where y'all from?" he asked, unsure if he was genuinely curious or not.

"Texas," she answered, biting off the gauze on her forearm and securing it. "I ain't got a clue where _he's_ from exactly."

"Texas? You sure are a long way from home, Dorothy," Nick retorted, but was ignored.

"What are y'all doin' all the way in Griffin?" Coach questioned.

"Long story," the girl began, scratching at the tightness of her new bandages. "Let's just say we took a road trip to Virginia and had to come back right quick."

"That still ain't connectin' no dots, Miss," Ellis said gently. "You went from Texas to Virginia, and now you're in Georgia? That don't make any sense."

"I ain't heard no news 'bout Texas _or_ the rest of the south," she responded gravely, ignoring his question. "But folks in - where were we, Sergio? - South Carolina I reckon, with them weird accents, told us the whole upper east coast is completely gone."

She rubbed the neck of her rifle against her jeans until it glistened in the moonlight coming from between the rods of the barred door window. Her outrageous hand gestures only seemed to get worse as she tried to illustrate the actual gravity of the course of the epidemic.

"Anyway, what're your names?" she piped up, surprisingly unscathed.

"Well the name's Ellis," he said, taking his hat off and pressing it to his chest, as to show chivalry. "But some people call me Ell. But I really prefer Ellis 'cause Ell kinda sounds like a girl's name... but if you prefer to call me Ell I guess you can."

"Lily LaRue," she responded. "and this here's my partner, Sergio. He don't hardly speak English."

"I'm Rochelle."

"And you can call me Coach," he added. "Y'all did pretty good out there, Miss LaRue."

"My name's Nick," Nick inquired flatly. "But don't bother learning it. I don't plan on sticking around much longer."

There was an awkward silence and scuffling around in the trailer, except for Coach, who scoffed in amusement at Nick's statement.

"Hey, I found some water bottles," Rochelle said, showcasing two small canteens and shaking them, indicating they were filled. "There's a box of saltines in the desk drawer, but other than that, there isn't much else to eat."

"Oh, good. We can all starve to death," Nick quipped. "Beats gettin' eaten."

"All I need's some Tabasco sauce and I'll be just fine," Ellis said, receiving the package of crackers as Rochelle offered them. He took a few, and then turned to Lily and Sergio. "You want some?"

"No thanks. I ain't really all that hungry," she said softly, pulling out the mangled bag of sunflower seeds and beginning to chew a few.

"But you need to get some energy."

"I know, but after all we been seein', I just ain't got an appetite."

The whole trailer fell silent as each of the survivors pondered this same thought, except for the smacking noises coming from Lily and the rustling of the maps as Rochelle examined them. The infection had spread beyond much of their knowledge, and having had their hopes crushed numerous times by a faulty organization that promised safe evacuation was beginning to take its toll on their countenances. None of them had had any contact with friends or family members for days; they hadn't showered or even eaten a decent meal - all the food they had found was either stale or rotten to the point of it being toxic if consumed - it was a mystery how they could maintain even the slightest bit of hope, crack the tiniest smile, or laugh in conditions such as these.

"You sure got a good handle with those guns," Nick finally stated, his tone surprisingly and unusually gentle. "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

"I'm from _Texas_," she answered, as though Nick and the rest of the world should have already known that.

"You ain't no good with cars or nothin', right?" Ellis chimed in, his attention averted to Lily. "'Cause y'all ride horses alot, right? I _love_ horses."

"Naw, we ride stupid people," she replied heatedly. "You know, I once thought about namin' a donkey Ellis. That's a nice name for an ass, don't you think?"

"A donkey, huh?" Ellis repeated, mildly hurt. His interest seemed to wane and he returned to munching on his stale crackers in silence, ignoring the stifled chuckling from the others.

Nick studied the girl as she chewed on her seeds, a new found sympathy befalling his chiseled facial features. He straddled a chair, his chin cradled in one hand and the other dangling loosely at his side. Rochelle and Coach were seated near the barricade on the floor, Coach also eating some crackers while Rochelle studied the maps she had taken from the hotel. According to the atlas, what Lily had said was true; all of the east coast was marked with red X's, presumably indicating the severity of the infection. Although practically the entire Midwest and beyond was free of markings, one location in particular had been circled but was not labeled; that location was New Orleans, Louisiana.

"Y'all don't get too comf'table," Coach said somberly. His eyes had glazed over but he continued to eat. "We can't stay long."

"By the way, thanks for lettin' us," Lily claimed sweetly. "Most people we met along the way weren't... well, _people_ for one. And the ones that _were_ people were talkin' about bein' carriers or something, and they wouldn't let us _near_ them."

The original four all shared an awkward look, each attempting to define the word _carrier_ in appropriate context. Their attempts were short lived as each settled in their own sections of the temporary safe room and continued with what they were doing.

"Times like these..." Coach started, positioning himself against the corner of a wall and shutting his eyes, his hunting rifle held tightly in his hands. "We can use all the help we can get."

"Got that right," Rochelle added, leaning her head against the wall, her eyes also drifting shut.

"I ain't gonna lie though, Miss LaRue," Ellis continued, stretching out on his back in the middle of the trailer and fixing his eyes on Lily. "For bein' a girl, you sure don't shoot like one."

"Ellis, you're an idiot," Nick said, burying his face into his folded arms on the back of the chair. "Just go to sleep."

Lily chuckled inwardly and then proceeded to placing her head against Sergio's shoulder, finally closing her own eyes. Leaning against the wall, they tried to find refuge in the only part of their world that wasn't currently engulfed in infection or disaster. Once again, the trailer fell silent as the new group of six mourned in nostalgia, recalling the most recent memories of their families and pleading silently that they were all unharmed; the small flicker of hope remained inside of them, quickly covered by war torn faces. Somewhere off in the amusement park, inhumane grumbling could be heard; signs of future encounters with the infection troubled the survivors, keeping them from much of their needed rest.

* * *

**A/N: **Much thanks to Creepbox, my inspiration for Lily LaRue! & all of my dear readers/reviewers, I love all five of you :)


	5. Dark Carnival

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Dark Carnival, Part Two_

The survivors didn't know how long they had been sleeping when the loud roar of helicopter rotors resounded in the skies, snapping them almost instantly from their weak rest. Scrambling to retrieve their belongings and compose themselves before the sound faded out, they all rushed from the trailer and into the vacant amusement park to stare at a blank sky. As the noise had promised, a black figure snarled through the clouds, unaware of their shouts and cries, even though it seemed close enough to the ground to see them. Waving their arms and jumping in a frenzy to notify the chopper, they all screamed until their lungs could give no longer and the aircraft finally whirred out of sight.

"Dammit!" Nick cursed.

"We need to signal that chopper," Coach said, rubbing his eyes from the sleep that had been ignored until that moment. "I know they ain't leavin' this area."

"Whose idea was it to cut through this place?" Rochelle groaned, pacing in a full circle as she observed the park. "It's creepy as hell out here."

"We ain't got a choice now Ro," Ellis replied softly, nodding to the trailer that had been blockaded. "We won't survive out in the woods this late."

"As much as I _hate _amusement parks," Lily chimed in, placing her new found guitar across her back. "He's got a point. We won't see nothin' in the woods."

"As far as evac centers go," Nick started, proceeding toward the entrance of the park. "This ain't the worst place to hold up. It looks abandoned anyway."

"Maybe they got food," Coach added dreamily, following Nick through the rolling gates. "Some _good_ food. Let's get movin' y'all."

With that said, none of them protested the idea any further and proceeded forward with much caution. The only movement that greeted them was the random breeze, rustling the leaves that had started to die and fell to the floor, and pieces of trash cartwheeling like tumbleweed across the park. The sound of their footsteps were compensation for conversation, echoing gingerly in the muggy night air as they walked through miles of carnival tents and various shut down attractions that would have otherwise brought them joy on a different day. Ellis and Coach were the only ones who expressed any type of enthusiasm for such things, occasionally commenting with an outburst of excitement when spotting a familiar game or, more particularly, carnival food signs. Unfortunately for them, none of these things were working or available.

They continued walking for what seemed like centuries, exploring many abandoned buildings surprisingly void of any partially living thing along the way, but scoring several amenities as well. For instance, Rochelle and Sergio came across finely polished and seemingly untouched Desert Eagles and a triple-burst action SCAR rifle, obvious sign of military presence (albeit not even relatively close to the area anymore)that they gratefully adhered to. The table that had provided these things also offered a makeshift Molotov cocktail, something that only Ellis, for some odd reason, and Nick were familiar with; two crudely prepared explosive devices and ammunition for the SCAR. After much debate, the group took the items and went along their way once again, descending a walkway that led into a brightly colored (or would be, were it not for the night and dim lighting of a single distant storm light)area.

"Ho-ly _shit_, guys! KIDDIELAND!"

It didn't take long for Ellis to thunderbolt down the walkway into the segment of the park designed for children. His eyes were alight, compensation for the shining moon that had long disappeared behind the smoke colored clouds in the dark sky; his smile stretched from both ears, threatening to split his face in two as he ran past the banner and into the park, greeted by several of the infected that immediately took notice of his elated presence. And as fast as he entered the kiddie park, he instantly retreated, wielding his M-16 assault rifle and firing in every direction.

"I wish I was that happy." Rochelle muttered, loading her new found weapon and sprinting behind the other survivors toward Ellis.

"Seriously." Lily answered with a smirk.

After the survivors finished picking off the mini horde that had flocked to Ellis, presumably attracted by his childish high spirits and consumed by the desire to annihilate them (because the infected paid no heed to the others), they observed their surroundings in repressed awe. The kiddie rides still managed to maintain their playful allure, patterns of vivid colors glistening with the storm light standing at the farthest end of the area; it seemed that the group was momentarily consumed with nostalgia and memories of their youth as they wandered through. Even as they came to an alleyway, they silently bid their childhood memories adieu, after they were certain that no one was watching them do so.

At the opposite end of the back street, an abandoned trailer truck sat in front of an empty storage garage and maintenance building; the truck was barren and the storage led to nothing. The only other exit was through the maintenance area, which was actually some kind of emergency fire exit, complete with a fire escape ladder that they climbed to the rooftop. The night air gave them only a temporary rush of cool wind to soothe their skin caked with layers of filth and sweat as they searched the roof for a way back down.

"I ain't ever seen a slide this big before!" Lily stated gleefully.

She stood at the top of the enormous multicolored slide, gazing across the entire span of the park with suppressed enthusiasm. The others descended the staircase next to it without a word, except for Ellis, who was glad to finally have someone else share in his cheer about the place.

"Ain't it cool?" he said, looking up at her with wide blue eyes and an even broader grin. "It's like we bought the park an' got it _all_ to ourselves. That was the third thing I was gonna do if I ever won the lottery."

"Come on you guys," Rochelle said, beckoning them forward as she walked off the last part of the steps. "Keep moving."

"Aw, y'ain't no fun," he whined, following her anyway. "I was just tellin' Lily 'bout -"

Whatever he said was cut off by a sudden gust of sour smelling wind and a wheezing cough from an unknown source. Lily remained at the top of the ride, however, her eyes straining to see into the black sky for any sign of rescue. She was about to descend the staircase after them when she heard some kind of weird scream pierce through the still air; she had no time to react as she felt something cold and slimy constrict her throat and yank her backward, out of view from the others.

"What was that sound?" Nick asked. "Where's Texas?"

"I dunno," Ellis replied. "Lily? What're you doin' up there? Come down!"

"I don't think she's alone," Coach said, starting back up the stairs after Sergio and Rochelle. "That hollerin' didn't sound like it came from Miss Lily."

On the roof, some tall, special kind of infected thing was dragging Lily like a hooked fish across the top while she squirmed and fought. Her boot heels dragged on the concrete as she kicked around and struggled to catch hold of an anchor, to no avail; the creature thrust her onto her back, pinning her on top of her AK-47 rifle and guitar with a clang and knocking the wind from her lungs, thus disabling her further. As she gasped for air, desperate to alert the others, she caught a full view of the oppressor. Its face had mutated far beyond human distinction, and in compensation for hair, several tentacles wriggled on its head. Its mouth was large and gaping, emanating a foul stink in clouds of toxic smoke and pools of sticky saliva. Its tiny eyes were blue and merciless, watching her like a serpent on its prey.

Then, a long, seemingly endless rope of a tongue slithered from its open mouth, flicking like a cat tail at her skin until it reached her face. It smelled rotten, and it was all she could do not to choke on her own vomit while the tip of it traced the outline of her lips. Its head came down closer and the mouth widened, revealing several rows of tiny, jagged incisors still caked with human flesh. There were several saccular growths protruding from its neck and chest and enlarged pores to the point of looking like craters, which also released the putrid smoke. The smoke soon engulfed her and she began to wheeze violently, unable to get away while she was suffocating. The tongue danced along her eyelids, trailing down into her nostrils and lapping up the mucus that had started to pour from them. Tears started to flow from her stinging eyes, obscuring her vision of its disgusting features as it moved even closer. She could feel its cold fingers crawling underneath her clothes and just grazing the sensitive skin between her breasts with its nails, seemingly marking the location directly to her lungs.

"What the hell... ?" Coach screamed, reaching the top of the slide and looking to where Lily had been dragged to.

"Ho-ly _shit_! Is that it's _tongue_?" Ellis cried in disbelief.

"Get it off her for chrissakes!" Nick demanded, aiming his combat shotgun and opening fire alongside Sergio.

The smoker whirled around upon taking notice of them and made a rattling noise deep within its throat. Its tongue wrapped around Lily and it started to run, dragging her along with it. She bashed into the air vents, somersaulting and landing face down only to continue to be towed across the span of the roof with her arms wrapped securely at her sides.

"Shoot the tongue guy!" Ellis hollered, racing after them with his rifle pointed. He fired a few shots, just barely skimming Lily's shoulder and puncturing the leg of the special infected.

It began to limp, but was not stumbled much more. Lily tried to scream but the sound that came forth was like a dull hiss instead; were she to be dragged much longer, she would surely asphyxiate. Sergio yelled something angrily in an unknown language, aiming his Desert Eagles at the head of the creature and firing until the magazines ran out. The smoker was nimble though, dodging most of the bullets but taking a staggering amount of damage anyway. It began to stumble down the stairs leading to the fire escape from which they had come, dragging Lily who bounced upon impact with each step.

"Lick this, motherfucker!" Nick shouted, dispensing half the rounds of his weapon directly at its head and mutilating it.

The creature smacked hard into the concrete rooftop, rupturing some of its sacs and dispensing a cloud of smoke into the air. Lily had stopped moving, still bound by the rope tongue almost a good ten feet away from the curious infected and most likely unconscious. Sergio was the first to run over to her, naturally; upon reaching her, he knelt down and began to struggle to untangle his fallen partner from the tongue and her weaponry in a blind panic. Once she was loosed, he slapped and shook her until she opened her eyes, still bemused as she hit Sergio in an attempt to free herself from his suspected abuse.

"Now why in the _hell_ are you smackin' me around for, Sergio?" she cried out, scrambling to her feet and wiping her bloody nose. "Have you lost your damned mind?"

"Oh thank God," Rochelle chuckled through her nostrils, grabbing at her forehead in relief. "I wasn't about to watch a kid die in front of me."

"Have y'all ever seen somethin' like this? This ain't nothin' like no scary movie." Ellis asked, as he knelt down next to the infected and prodded it with the neck of his rifle. He began to hack as soon as he breathed in some of the smoke still lingering in the air.

"They're changing," Nick said. "The infection found a way to get worse. My guess is this fucker was a chain smoker before he turned."

"No shit, you think?"

"Let's go."

"Hey!" Lily called after him. She raced up to Nick with Sergio not far from her side, gazing up at him with gratitude in her muddy eyes. "I didn't get to thank you."

"For what?"

"Well, savin' my life."

"Don't mention it," he responded, after looking around to see who was listening. "Now I understand you almost got strangled to death, but could you please walk a little faster?"

For some reason, it didn't bother Lily that it took only a fraction of a second for Nick to bounce back from his sincerity; she only smiled and followed after them, somewhat thankful that he was such an asshole. It made it seem like he had still managed to maintain some of his sanity, despite the outrageous events unfolding around them.

They came to another flight of steps, leading to the other side of the park that had been fenced in, and ascended them. They searched the office at the top of the staircase for supplies and found a generous pile of ammunition, which they took sparingly; then reappeared onto the balcony that overlooked the area they couldn't get to from floor level, and their cheer vanished as they dropped down.

Ahead of them, a carousel encased in a fence menacingly stood still, following the pattern of previous blockages and further inconvenience for the gang as its bright clownish colors taunted them wickedly. Knowing it would most likely summon a horde of unwanted company, they stood in front of it and thought for a moment, before Nick took notice of the Li'l Peanut sign indicating the height requirement for the ride and slugged Ellis a good one.

"Nice fencing. Looks like a federal carousel penitentiary," Nick quipped sarcastically. "You must be _this_ tall to get in here, Ellis. Sorry buddy, you'll be missed."

"Haw-haw, very funny," Ellis responded sorely. "What, you're a comedian now?"

"Looks like we're gonna have to shut the ride down on the other end," Coach said. "Y'all ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Lily muttered, her fingers steady on her beloved AK-47 rifle. "Start it up, Coach!"

He flipped all the switches, the ride coming to life in a series of lights and mechanical movement. Suddenly, the entire level of the park seemed to illuminate as the music of the merry-go-round associated with sweet childhood memories mutated into an evil noise, soon joined by the agitated cries of many alerted infected. It seemed like hours before the gate to the ride parted wide enough to let them pass through; spray painted along the walls ahead of them was a house with a cross in it, and an arrow pointing in the direction that it seemed to have been placed.

"That's a safe house!" Lily cried, noting the graffiti. "There's a safe house ahead, y'all!"

"Don't look back!" Coach shouted. "Keep runnin' 'til you find that damn off switch!"

By that time, they could see an enraged group of infected charging in their direction from every angle. It wasn't long before the sounds of gun blasts, breaking bones and splattering guts meshed with the loud carousel music still blaring in the background.

"This... used to be..._ my_ neighborhood!" Coach grunted, slamming his fist into an oncoming infected and sending it to the floor. It only had the chance to turn around and face the butt of the rifle that came raining down between its eyes, ending its reign of terror permanently. He whirled around and fired several shots into the zombies that were closing the gap between them, sending them to the ground to join their fallen comrade in death.

"There's a safe house in the Tunnel of Love!" Rochelle cried above the clamor of the jam of infected that surrounded her. With several blasts from her SCAR, they were sent toppling to the floor in bloody heaps and granted her breathing room.

"_Jesus Christ_! The tunnel -" Nick shouted in bemusement, punching off an infected and dispensing a round from his shotgun into its skull. "_Get in the Tunnel of Love_!"

"These damn things won't stop comin'!" Lily screamed, firing into an approaching mob and retreating after Rochelle, Coach, Silent Sergio and Nick. "Turn that blasted merry-go-round _off_!"

Above the accumulating noise, it was almost impossible to hear that odd growling sound among the horde. Ellis had managed to fight off the infected that swarmed him and was racing toward the switch when he spotted the familiar hooded figure crouched low amidst the bustle, its eyes locked on its prey of whom he could not clearly determine.

"Crazy legs!" Ellis hollered, but to no one in particular. It seemed as though everyone had retreated into the safe house without his knowledge.

Dispensing the rest of his magazine into approaching infected, he began to struggle to find another preloaded clip and reload his weapon as he realized who the creature was targeting. He could already see its chiseled incisors glistening in rows on its wide mouth, emitting a gurgling noise from its throat angrily. Instinctively, and because he was so close to it, Ellis spun around and yanked on the switch, watching as the blinding lights and horrible music shut off and the carousel finally stopped moving. Heaving a sigh of relief, he turned back around just in time to see the special hooded infected steady itself for a pounce.

"You ain't gonna get me, fucker!" Ellis yelled.

He pressed on the trigger of his rifle and fired in the direction of the creature, only to have several of his shots dodged and his body tackled to the ground. His assault rifle was knocked out of reach, and all Ellis could do was watch in anticipation as the infected let out a primal screech before readying its claws to attack. At this distance, he could see the cold gray eyes of his attacker layered in film, void of any emotion like all the others he had seen, with the exception of the voraciousness permanently etched on its dilapidated features; however, this one still maintained a human distinction, and it was noticeable, however obscurely, that this creature was probably no older than Ellis himself prior to the epidemic.

"Well I'll be damned," Ellis mumbled, almost excitedly. "So _this_ is what I'd look like if I were a zombie!"

The infected hesitated no further as it brought its talons down into Ellis, raking across his chest and breaking the flesh instantly, taking shreds of his t-shirt with it. He roared with agony, feeling his hot blood bubble at the surface of his laceration and drip into his clothes; before the creature could administer any additional damage, its head suddenly burst, splattering the walls and Ellis with its remains before it went limp and flopped to the side. Behind them, Nick stood while wielding his shotgun still smoking from the gunfire, clearly annoyed.

"Always gotta be babysittin' your ass!" he hissed, before sheathing his weapon and helping Ellis off his back.

"Thanks for comin' back for me man," he said softly, but was ignored.

"That thing got you good," Nick quipped, his irritation suddenly replaced with amusement. "_Damn_."

"Naw, I'm alright," Ellis responded, ignoring the stinging sensation pulsing across his chest. "Just a scratch is all."

"Sure thing, Ellis."

With that being said, they hobbled their way across the pond of scattered bodies and joined the others in the safe room with much irritation. Upon noticing the new found artwork scratched across Ellis' pectorals, Lily offered him her first aid kit, and after much argument began to nurse his wounds. Rochelle, however, took one look at his injuries and immediately knew what it was that had caused them, to her disdain; she even came up with a nickname for it, dubbing the special hooded infected Hunter.

"You wouldn't believe this thing!" Ellis enthused to Lily as she swabbed his gashes with rubbing alcohol. His story was momentarily paused as he hissed in pain, then almost immediately returned to his exuberant illustration of the creature. "It's like some kinda zombie leopard human thing. And you can't see it at first 'cause it's real sneaky, 'til it's practically on top o' ya, but by that time's already too late."

"Quit movin' around," Lily grumbled, half listening to his jabbering as she began to wrap protective gauze around his chest. "Or I'll do this wrong."

"Ouch! Well, shit! I think you're _already_ doin' it wrong!"

"Would you shut your mouth? I'm tryin' to help you out."

"I didn't ask for it!"

"But you needed it."

"Hey Frick an' Frack, quit shittin' around," Coach barked, chuckling nervously to himself and shaking his head. "You do realize we are trapped in the Tunnel o' Love? We got bigger problems on our hands."

"Bringin' back any memories, Coach?" Nick quipped sarcastically from his corner, receiving no acknowledgment. "You, a cheeseburger... romance in the air."

"I ever tell y'all 'bout the time my friend Keith drowned in the Tunnel o' Love?" Ellis suddenly inquired, securing the bandages on his chest after shooting an affable wink at Lily. "You'd think it couldn't happen 'cause the water's so shallow, but that's how it gits you man, _over__ confidence_! An' he was yellin' at his girlfriend to save 'im, but she didn't wanna get wet -"

"Ellis, sweetie, can this wait?" Rochelle groaned.

"Okay..."

"So, what are we gonna do?" Coach asked rather serenely. "Y'all up for a ride in the Tunnel o' Love?"


	6. Crash City

**SOUTHERN COMFORT**_  
Dark Carnival, Part Three  
_

"I ever tell y'all 'bout the time me an' Keith made a homemade bumper car ride with riding mowers in his backyard?" Ellis inquired animatedly, his words tumbling over each other in a rapid babble. "Mower blade wounds over _ninety percent_ of his body. I didn't run him over, either. He somehow managed to fall under on his own."

"Ellis? Now's not the best time," Nick said, dispensing a few rounds into an attacking infected.

"Okay!"

The survivors had managed to make it past the several carnival games and were now trekking across an abandoned bumper car ride, which had obviously sparked the story about Keith. None of the survivors, however, had any time to listen or actually care because they were in the middle of fighting off a horde that had been attracted by the sounds of a game Ellis had played. In the background, the Moustachio strength challenge blared wildly with music and seemed to be malfunctioning with overload, most likely because Ellis had thought it would be funny to try the game under the influence of adrenalin. Consequently, upon smashing the weight with the mallet, it crashed into the bell at the top of the game and thus alerted a bewildered horde from nowhere.

The survivors were currently paying the price.

"I dunno what in the _hell_ was goin' through your mind, boy," Coach grunted, rifle-butting an infected in his path and then blasting a round into its head. "'cause that was pro'lly the stupidest thing I ever seen you do."

Ellis was still very apparently hyped up on the effects of the adrenalin, mumbling something incoherently and rather rapidly as he raced about like a madman and swung his rifle around as a melee weapon. His magazines had all been spent from its usage and none of the other survivors had enough ammunition for themselves let alone to spare. When he could feel the rifle beginning to bend from impact upon impact with the skulls of the infected, he abandoned it, now wielding his tactical semi-automatic shotgun that had long been set aside. The others could almost step back and watch in amazement as Ellis miraculously managed to load all ten rounds into his shotgun, blast oncoming infected to bits, and repeat the process until the horde finally ceased.

Ellis stood among the corpses in silence, his chest heaving up and down quickly and his eyes wide, pupils dilated like hungry little black holes.

"You all right, Overalls?" Nick asked gingerly, stepping toward him.

Ellis' head snapped in his direction, and as his pupils shrank down to their normal size, it was very obvious that the effects were finally wearing off. Without warning Lily ambled up to Ellis, stared him straight in the eye and slapped him very ferociously in the face. He recoiled with the pain, shaking his head to clear his mind and stood up straight, his speech still slurred from the adrenalin. Again Lily slapped him, this time aiming for his other cheek and practically sending him to his knees.

"Alright, _alright_!" Ellis pleaded, clutching his brazen cheeks. "I'm straight, I'm straight! _Shit_, Lily!"

"Well the first one was for bein' a dumb ass," she replied, walking through the exit of the bumper car ride. "And the second one...well, it just felt good."

"I think you're beginning to rub off on her," Rochelle said to Nick, nudging him and nodding toward Lily with a smirk.

"No, it's just blatantly obvious how stupid the hillbilly can be sometimes," Nick said hotly. "She's just picking fights."

"Exactly."

"Whatever."

They continued through the exit of the Crash City bumper cars, reappearing onto the other side of the park that granted them a view of the Peach Pit. It was sealed off by gates, obviously because it was inaccessible from that floor level; Coach commented on how he had a plan once they reached the stadium (yet again), and for everyone to keep moving. They did so, passing through a maze of carnival tents and various other little attractions, stopping near the entrance of a barn that stank worse than anything they had ever come across before.

"God, what is that _smell_?" Nick groaned, covering his nose with his arm but failing to escape from the stench.

"Manure," Ellis stated simply, walking toward the entrance and then stopping. "Oh shit."

"What?"

Ellis said nothing, but was frozen in his tracks with eminent fear sculpted on his features. His fingers began to tremble on the trigger of his shotgun as he very slowly began to back up toward the rest of the group, whom were still puzzled by his actions. They watched momentarily with anticipation of the answer to their question that never came.

"What is it?" Nick asked in a whisper.

Ellis simply waved him off, gesturing with his hand to remain where they were, but to no avail. His stubbornness got the best of him and almost instantly he jogged up to Ellis to bestow the sight which frightened him so much; immediately, he wished he hadn't.

"Fuck."

In front of them, the dilapidated carcasses still in the process of being devoured laid in their stalls, but that wasn't the least of the gruesome scene. In the center of the barn, for whatever reason it was free of the walls of a stall like the others, was a disgusting, half eaten bull pawing the ground angrily. Its black hide had been torn off in various places, including part of its face and sides, so much so that one side of its ribcage and its entire left jaw was exposed. Its flesh had grown gangrenous and was seeping a foul smelling liquid onto the floor in droplets, and it was clear by the feral, familiar yellow glow in its eyes that it was heavily infected. The zombies ripping away at the meat of the animals paid no attention to the survivors, and it was unclear whether or not the bull would do the same to them; however, what was transparently certain was that this diseased beast wanted to annihilate the two uninfected standing before it.

With a violent bovine roar from deep within its throat, the bull charged full speed toward Ellis and Nick. In the blink of an eye, Nick shoved Ellis out of the way and pressed the trigger of his combat shotgun, allowing a few shots to penetrate the leather hide of the animal before it tackled him into a shed with a loud crash. The infected inside the barn snapped out of their voracious trance, attracted by the clamor and consequently noticing the survivors outside, then proceeded to charging them too.

Confusion befell the survivors as the events began unfolding around them at light speed, and their instincts immediately commanded them into defending themselves against the small crowd of infected that were attacking them aside from anything else. The survivors could do nothing but fend off the oncoming even as the shed that the bull and Nick disappeared into collapsed in a pile of wood and metal. The bull could be seen rearing itself upward, tossing debris from its back and momentarily revealing Nick fallen beneath it. Right before its hooves came raining down, he managed to roll out of the way just in time to feel the concrete split beneath him.

"Ellis, help Nick!" Coach demanded, shooting several rounds into the infected surrounding them. "I'll cover you!"

As if on cue, Ellis nodded, pushing himself to stand and bolt toward the wreckage and the rampaging animal. He unsheathed his tactical shotgun and, after having cursed very potently and inconsiderately, blasted bits of the animal away to no avail. This seemed to further agitate the bull, which whirled around and upon spotting Ellis, redirected its course and aimed its elongated horns in his direction. Before it could reach Ellis however, a rain of bullets exploded from a combat shotgun and stopped the beast in its tracks, now extremely infuriated and bent on destroying them both. Its breath was visible through its nostrils as it beat the concrete with its hooves once more, tossing its head about in a furious tantrum with its glowing eyes settled on its next target.

"Come on, Ferdinand," Nick taunted, though he was doubled over with pain. "Come to daddy."

The animal let out a savage cry and stormed in his direction, taking several rounds from his rifle in the process. Behind the animal, Ellis was loading shells in a wild frenzy into his shotgun, while the sounds of other gunshots boomed around him. He cocked his weapon and blasted away, taking the bull in its leg and stumbling it. With one final roar in agony, the beast toppled over, the momentum of its stampeding causing it to slide in Nick's direction and come to a stop just before reaching him.

"_Olé_," he muttered, placing his shotgun directly on its forehead. The chest of the animal heaved very rapidly, its nostrils flaring and closing quickly while emitting weary snorts; this finally ended when Nick squeezed the trigger, splattering brain matter onto the concrete.

Ellis immediately appeared at his side, still in pain from when he had been pushed and fell, but ignoring it to help Nick stand upright. He waved him off, one hand planted firmly on his hip and the other clasping his ribs, which he figured were probably heavily bruised if not fractured in many places. Nick hissed in anguish but fought it to rejoin the others as they finished picking off the group of infected and answer their inquiry.

"What in the _hell_ was that thing?" Coach questioned.

"That, my friends, was zombified Ferdinand," he replied lightheartedly, referencing the story he had loved as a child. "He fucked me up pretty bad though."

"You need help?" Ellis asked, but was disregarded.

"I'm alright, thanks."

"You sure?" Rochelle inquired, her hazel eyes narrowed at the sight of Nick while he limped alongside them. "You don't _look_ all right."

"I'm _fine_," he insisted breathlessly. "Now can we please get the hell outta here?"

With that being said, the survivors continued through the terrible wasteland that the conjoined barns had become, strolling past corpses of various animals that had been completely or partially consumed. Fortunately, none of those animals were alive and thus another encounter like the one with the bull was thankfully avoided. They did, however, come across a frustrating situation once having reappeared on the other side of the barns, which was actually a dead end. It was a mystery to them how anyone could have accessed the Peach Pit when the amusement park was actually working; luckily for them though, Coach suggested they travel across the rooftops that indisputably led to the stadium, which they did quite easily with the exception of Nick, who hobbled about with the agility of an old man.

"Hey, Nick," Ellis said, almost in a whisper as he appeared beside him and wrapped one of his arms around his neck to support him. "I just wan'ed to thank you for what you did back there."

"Oh yeah?" he inquired. "And what might _that_ have been?"

"Well, I could be in your position right now," he replied with a gentle chuckle, avoiding the answer directly. "Or I could be dead. I owe ya one."

"Yeah, well... _Don't_ mention it."

They both continued in awkward silence, descending a ladder like a bridge that allowed them to step from the roof onto an ice box, then to the ground below. They staggered along in the direction of the Peach Pit quietly and once they reached the other survivors waiting for them on the other end, the conversation between them had completely ceased. Before Ellis helped Nick to stand and then walk away however, he stopped him, his hand clutching his arm forcefully and his face screwed up in pain.

"Overalls?"

"Yeah?"

"You owe me. Front me some painkillers, would ya?"

Ellis shook his head, laughing inwardly and reaching for the bottle of pills in his pocket, then dispensing a couple into Nick's hand, which he swallowed dryly. Ellis did the same, then put the bottle away and turned to look at him again, but he had already climbed the scaffolding and was scavenging the random pile of ammunition that rested on the top.

"Snap out of it, Ellis," Nick hollered, glowering brutishly at him and breaking his trance. "Here they come."

"Aw shit!" Ellis exclaimed, almost excitedly. "Y'all get ready!"

The firing of a SCAR rifle and several other explosions replaced the aggravated cries of the infected as a wave of them stormed into the Peach Pit after the survivors. Bodies dropped in numerous piles as they blasted away dozens each with relative ease, including Nick, who was reduced to sitting at the top of the scaffolding and firing shots into the infected before they could reach the gang at the bottom. When the horde had stopped coming in waves close to the hundreds, he climbed down to the ground and waited beside the others as the final inches of the gate granted them access to the stadium. Suddenly, a squeaking noise bounced off the walls of the alley leading to the stadium, and then the figure of a clown materialized before them. The honking of its ridiculous shoes attracted a flock of infected to it, and consequently they spotted the survivors and began to charge them alongside the clown. Half of the survivors froze in fear, including Rochelle, Sergio and Ellis; Nick and the rest of the group, however, opened fire but only managed to hit the entourage of zombies around it.

"Shoot the fucking clown!" Rochelle managed to say, quaking violently with paralyzing horror.

At the same moment, a familiar wheezing cough resounded through the air, though it was barely audible through the accumulating noise of gun shots and screaming. Within moments, Rochelle could feel the sentence catch in her throat as a slimy rope constricted it, tearing her backward and bashing her against the wall. The force of the tongue began to lift her into the air as the special infected on the other end began to yank her toward it hungrily, its raspy growling growing louder as the distance between them closed. The tongue began to play as a noose around her neck as her feet came off the ground and dangled beneath her, choking the breath from her and thus keeping her from being able to call out.

Before the world began to melt away into blackness, she could make out the little figurine of Lily aiming her AK-47 rifle directly above Rochelle and then the noose falling away from her throat. She landed roughly on her face, her elbows and knees breaking her fall to some extent; everything around her suddenly became vivid again once she breathed in enough oxygen to reawaken her dulling senses. After grasping her SCAR in her hands again, she could see a hunched-back silhouette leaping through the alley in Sergio's direction like a lemur. It seemed to be cackling crazily as well, though the sound had also been mostly drowned out by the clamor.

"Sergio, watch out!" she screamed, but was too late.

The infected slammed into Sergio head on, throwing him onto the ground with a loud smack. She could see his arms flailing about in attempt to throw the creature off him while it commenced to beating his face with balled fists and incredible force, shrieking with laughter the entire duration. Her eyes caught a glimpse of Lily battling the clown with her bare hands and her beloved rifle resting a short ways out of her reach; Ellis was also struggling to ignore being pummeled in every direction by a mob of infected and help Coach off the ground at the same time; Nick had completely disappeared into a horde that surrounded him, but several shots from his combat shotgun indicated he was still alive.

From within the jam, Nick fought to reload ten rounds into his shotgun while being punched and clawed at relentlessly by the mosh pit of zombies swallowing him. He rifle-butted one in front of him, dispensing a round and blasting its head to pieces, allowing a gap for him to escape from the crowd. He dove through it, ignoring the pain coursing through his body as he hit the pavement and rolled over immediately, then fired while they were still confused of his whereabouts. The diversion was short lived, as they almost immediately realized where he was and changed their direction. By that time, however, he stood to his feet and now wielded an axe he had come across earlier, then proceeded to carving his way through the horde. When the blood bath around him ceased, he turned to see that familiar little pink creature plopping over to the side off of Sergio, its head having been blown off by shots fired by Rochelle.

And then, after his focus having been averted to Lily (whom had at that moment crushed the face of the clown with the guitar she found in the trailer), Nick could feel something tackle him to the ground. His own nose forcefully plummeting into the concrete, he instantly felt the blood run through his nostrils and white hot pain swallow his entire face, followed by a feral cry and then an agonizing set of claws raking across his back. He could hear a line tear across his suit as the skin on his shoulders broke and began searing hotly, subsequently adding to his accumulating rage. The Hunter had no further opportunity to proceed to tear him apart however, because Sergio had kicked it aside with a forceful shove from his boot, then dispensed practically an entire magazine from his sub machine gun into its chest.

Ignoring his own bleeding wounds from an inevitable concussion, Sergio offered Nick his hand and pulled him to his feet; both staggered with disorientation for a moment, then whirled around and began to fire into the crowd that was effectively beating both Ellis and Coach, even while Rochelle and Lily managed to get rid of most of them. The bodies dropped to the ground with intense cries, falling lifelessly in mangled piles next to Ellis and Coach, both reduced to laying on the concrete with nothing but their pistols in hand.

"Is it bad?" Ellis asked Lily while she helped him off his back.

"Naw, you're fine," she said, half lying and partially sincere. "Just a scratch. C'mon now, up on your feet."

"Here, I gotcha somethin'."

Ellis handed her the AK-47 that had fallen near him, watching as her face lit up significantly. She took the gun and strapped it over her shoulder again, comforted by its sleek metallic frame resting against her chest. Before Ellis could stumble away toward the others, whom had made their way toward a safe house installed at the base of the stadium entrance, she squeezed his hand gently. Then she wove his arm around her neck and her own around his waist, proceeding toward the others in this position as they supported each other.

"Ellis?"

"I ain't got that many pills left, Lily... but I guess if you need 'em - "

"No-ho, not that," she giggled.

"Then what?"

"Nick is wrong about you."

By the time she finished her sentence, they had already reached the safe room and were helped by the others inside. Like conversations between them prior, this one had also ceased abruptly, probably due to the presence of their comrades. They did exchange tentative glances however, but they also remained at opposite ends of the safe room and refrained from speaking to each other for an unknown reason. Simply put, since the opportunity to talk hadn't been presented to them, there was no initiative taken. It could have been anxiety, nervousness even, but whatever it was it returned the aura that had circulated the six since they first met on the highway; the others remained oblivious.

The cast iron door groaned with distress as Coach hauled it shut, emanating a loud clang as he sealed the lock and fell away from it. He rested against one of the tables set up conveniently with ammunition and health kits, some already rummaged through; he placed a hand at his side and breathed heavily, his face wrenched in pain. Almost immediately however, he shook his head and chuckled through his nostrils, and for some reason the others couldn't help but do the same.

"I figure that's the first time you ain't said nothin' 'bout kickin' ass, Ellis," Coach said, grinning at the young mechanic seated at the farthest corner of the room.

"That's 'cause we got our asses handed to us out there," he replied softly, uncertain whether or not it was intended sarcasm or gravity. "I'll reckon that's the worst we ever done."

"Can't expect it to be a breeze every time," Nick grunted, pushing himself to sit against the wall, allowing his bloody axe to fall with a clang. He sighed heavily, beginning to peel his blazer jacket from his body and unbutton his dress shirt so that he could tend his injuries. "At least we made it here in mostly one piece."

"We made it to the _stadium_," Rochelle corrected, wringing her neck that had turned purple from the tongue of the smoker.

"Okay, here's the plan," Coach began, taking a poster of a band plastered on the wall and examining it. "Y'all know the Midnight Riders? They gonna save us. 'Cause nobody - and I mean _nobody_ - has a bigger light show than the Midnight Riders."

"And that'll signal the chopper pilot!" Ellis cried happily, immediately withdrawing in agony. "Man, this is gonna be like the..._ fourth_ time the Midnight Riders have saved my life."

"I figure we can start the show and wait it out 'til the chopper comes an' gets us. It'll be the easiest SOS to see."

"Let me get this straight," Ellis babbled blithely, his hands waving around animatedly. "We got to set up to rock out _and_ kill zombies? This is the greatest day of my _life_!"

"Easiest to see is right," Nick muttered, feebly pouring rubbing alcohol down his back and wincing. "We'll be ringin' the fuckin' dinner bell."

"Let me help you with that," Lily said, hobbling over to Nick and swiping the alcohol from his hands. "Before you go an' mess yourself up some more."

"Who died and made you doctor?"

"Everybody."

"Damn it, Nick," Rochelle cursed, unwrapping the gauze from around her midriff. The Hunter slashes were crusting with scabs that continually broke as she moved. "You're so fucking negative."

"And hairy," Lily added, running her fingers over the coarse hairs on his back while she bandaged him.

"I _am_ a man, sweetheart," he retorted almost proudly, peering over his shoulder at her. "Take a good look."

"But I'm rather fond of my eyesight."

"Very funny."

"Them zombies fucked you up somethin' serious."

There was a sigh as a response from Nick. He shifted around, immediately reprimanded by Lily as she tightened the makeshift brace around his torso to heighten his discomfort. Nick groaned, but there was no retaliation on his behalf; he merely sat there and waited as she patched him up, and when she was finished he clothed himself rather slowly. A weak smile was the only acknowledgment Lily received from him, but she was certainly in no mood to ask for anything additional.

She simply retreated to a section of the room where Sergio was, fighting against sleep in regards to his plausible concussion. They conversed briefly in a language that apparently they could only understand, unaware of the repressed confusion of the others; then they embraced, hanging onto each other as seconds passed rather quickly into minutes. When the odd ritual subsided, Lily planted a kiss on his cheek and they proceeded to nursing each other with whatever was left of the health kit on the table.

"They're so weird," Nick muttered to Coach, who was only half listening as he loaded his gun.

"Have you been so depraved that you can't even recognize love anymore, Nick?" Coach said without looking up. "At least them kids got each other."

Nick held up his wedding finger, decorated with a handsome ring that miraculously managed to stay clean of grime. Coach looked up to see the trinket, and consequently remained quiet. Nick only smirked, running the same hand through his greasy black hair and sighing as he rested against the wall, careful not to touch it with his wound.

"Not depraved, big guy," he said softly, though his undertone still harnessed his impenetrable grit. "Abandoned."

"I'm sorry, Nick."

"Yeah, me too."

At that same moment, Lily looked up from cleansing a laceration in her knee and locked gazes with Nick, her mouth still forming a sentence. Though temporary, he could feel the last bit of the joy she was clinging to go out to him through the tiniest twitch of her lips, indicating a very faint smile. Her attention almost immediately reverted to what she was doing, and the feeling vanished along with it.

Nick was about to say something, but for some reason refrained from doing so. He turned his attention to Coach, who was fiddling with his own wedding band, now overcome with an obvious sadness. His bald head gleamed with the overhead lights from above as he fingered the humble little gem embedded in the plain golden ring that symbolized his eternal love for a woman he would never see again.

"I ever tell y'all 'bout the time me an' Keith made fireworks?" Ellis suddenly blurted. "Now I dunno shit about chemistry but Keith figured gasoline burns, doesn't it?"

He paused for effect, his baby blue eyes sparkling excitedly.

"_Third degree burns_ over _ninety-five percent_ of his body. Man, people in the next city over were callin' to complain about the smell of burning skin!"

"That's horrible, Ellis," Rochelle moaned, her expression rather bland. "Is it really necessary?"

"Okay..."

Nick and Coach, however, chuckled among themselves and never made it a point to hide it from the others. Upon receiving this reaction for the first time since they met, Ellis piped up quite considerably and was about to mention another story when he was interrupted by the whirring sound of a helicopter overhead. Everyone stopped what they were doing and inclined their ears to listen, but by that time it had already faded off into the distance, replaced by the moaning they had grown all too familiar with coming from the halls inside the concession area.

* * *

**A/N: **My special treat, since I failed to make it to the Monday deadline once again. Hopefully you're as excited as I am for the finale & Swamp Fever (although still undecided, since there has been no feedback)! Depending on reviews, the story might be brought to its conclusion with the next chapter :)


	7. Midnight Riders

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Dark Carnival Finale_

The cast iron door slowly swung open with an elaborated creaking noise, granting the survivors access to the concession area beneath the bleachers of the stadium. The attached flashlights at the ends of their weapons pierced through veils of creeping shadows, illuminating nothingness to reveal just that. The concrete floor was littered with trash, smashed pop cups and candy wrappers among other things; the walls were adorned with trails of blood, swirling in abstract design until they stopped abruptly at a pile of bodies on the floor. Other than that, the area was absolutely abandoned of anything remotely useful. After scavenging the food booths for anything edible and finding packaged pastries, pretzels and potato chips already in the process of becoming stale, the survivors continued onward with caution. The only sounds that greeted them were their footsteps, thumping softly on the ground almost in unison; and the occasional gust of a poor excuse for a breeze whispering through the arena, as well as several lingering infected.

"Aw-haw shoot," Ellis said rather excitedly, as the beam of his attached flashlight evaporated into the entrance of the Peach Pit stadium. "This is so cool."

The others didn't deny this fact as they stepped out into the desolate arena from beneath its bleacher seats. The moon had faithfully reappeared, casting an eerie milky glow over the entire span of the stadium and creating a makeshift strobe light for the survivors. The walls of the Peach Pit were emblazoned with enlarged pictures of the Midnight Riders, their faces closely resembling seasoned criminal cellmates in a Western movie. Coach and Ellis excitedly described their favorite band members, their voices echoing from the acoustics of the place perfectly into the night air.

"Someone turn on the lights!" Coach hollered in the middle of an exaggerated illustration of Smitty, one of the band mates.

After fumbling with the dazzling array of buttons and whatnot for what seemed like ages, Nick finally switched on the preset presentation of the infamous light show Coach and Ellis so diligently spoke of. The spot lights flashed on with faint clicking noises, bathing the stage in a fluorescent orange glow. Nick remained at the top of the bleachers, watching as Ellis and Rochelle set up some of the gas cans around the platform; Coach was observing the sound system on the stage; Lily and Sergio were loading weapons and magazine clips with bullets from a mountain of ammunition placed curiously on the stage. The sound of his leather shoes smacking the metal bleachers as he descended them to rejoin the others sounded in the air, and when everyone had assembled onstage, Nick gave the thumbs up to Coach.

"Check one-two," Ellis said into the microphone set up on the stage, tapping it with his finger softly. "Check one."

"Sorry to break it to you Coach, but your heroes lip-sync," Nick retorted, noting one of the cassette tapes on the sound system table. "There's a tape back here labeled 'finale'."

"The Midnight Riders show ain't about the music, Nick," Coach responded defensively, scoffing as though this fact should have been obvious. "It's about the _explosions_."

"Whatever."

"Gonna reach for the top!" Ellis sang happily, his face scrunched up animatedly as he did so. "Stay on the moun-tun!"

"Look at this here guitar," Lily cooed, lifting a scarlet-faced electric guitar resting against an amplifier. "Oh, what a beauty."

"I ever tell y'all I play bass in a band?" Ellis suddenly blurted, picking up that very instrument which lay undisturbed on the top of another amplifier. "I'm pretty damn good if I do say so myself."

"Y'all ready to do this?" Coach interrupted from behind the sound booth, his demeanor unusually bright. He seemed just as excited as Ellis to do this.

"As we'll ever be," Rochelle said.

"Coach, when I start this finale you're not gonna start dancin', are ya?" Nick quipped with a smirk. "Ah, screw it. I'm hittin' it."

_One, two, three!_

The wailing of an electric guitar exploded through the air, accompanied by a previously recorded set of drums and the vocals of the band members that Coach and Ellis spoke so fondly of. When the telltale roar of the infected resounded, the others turned to see the first onslaught rampage toward them like a tidal wave. Lily grabbed her beloved rifle and was about to head off into battle when Ellis shot out in front of her, igniting one of the gas cans that had been placed at the side of the stage. The infected blindly tumbled into the lake of fire, dispersing immediately in every direction as they flailed about in agony; a rain of zombies plunged into the same fire, and just like that the first wave had been annihilated in a heap of scorched corpses.

"You're welcome," Ellis said, winking at her as she dropped her guard a little.

"I don't care if they're lip-syncing or not, turn it up!" Nick shouted, captivated by the rhythm of the music. "You guys ready to rock?"

Even Rochelle seemed to be enjoying what she could of the free concert absent of its original musicians; the worry wrinkled on her face had considerably disappeared, only as the first horde had; for when the second succession returned, so did the wrenching in her face. Gritting her teeth, she fired her triple-burst action SCAR into the approaching mob, blowing out the kneecaps simultaneously in the ones that got in the line of fire. Standing her ground behind the wall of pyrotechnics from the stage, she continued opening fire into the crowd, knocking down many of the zombies desperately running in their direction.

"Every lady's crazy when her daddy's not around!" Coach sang, accompanying the voices on the recording loyally as he dispensed several rounds into the horde. "Da-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!"

"We need-a crank this shit up baby!" Ellis added, blasting away approaching infected with his tactical shotgun. "Rock an' roooll!"

"This is gonna get bad," Lily said, wielding her rifle tightly. Her eyes scanned the top of the bleacher seats from which the infected were erupting in an outpouring, hailing toward them like an endless hell sent plague. She aimed and fired violently, obliterating most of them in a shower of red mist with an excited primal yell. "C'mon, you sons-a-bitches! C'mon!"

The gush of infected never seemed to cease, but instead appeared to multiply overbearingly in number as the minutes stretched into half an hour. The survivors had long become weary, accumulating to their exhaustion from before in a sudden attack of extreme fatigue. The waves of zombies swelled and never stopped, their faces expressing their agitation by the noise and screwed up even more frighteningly than before in voracious hunger. The thousands of pairs of feral, yellow eyes rained toward them like homing devices, eying their prey with the intensity of a flock of jackals. Mob after mob, the survivors successfully blasted them away, their fear continually growing as no sign of the rescue chopper eased their apprehension and the pain of their afflicted wounds suddenly became more intense.

"How much longer do we have to do this, Coach?" Nick screamed, pummeling an approaching infected with a guitar and emanating a horrendously loud clang.

His combat shotgun had long become empty of its ammunition, and the consistent surging mass of zombies failed to grant him time to reload it; his axe had been flung elsewhere and out of reach amidst battle, rendering him virtually defenseless against the infected.

The wall of fire suddenly erupted from the stage again, sending fireworks into the black atmosphere now charred with smoke like flare signals. At the same moment, Coach tossed a gas can out into the mosh pit of infected, with Ellis firing directly at it and dispensing a rain of wildfire among them. The zombies ignited and dispersed in a frenzy, crying loudly as they ran in all directions, some slamming into each other or even getting so far as making it on the stage before collapsing in a crispy burnt heap.

"That chopper's comin'!" Coach hollered, firing his hunting rifle into the bleacher seats, where another swell of infected surged toward them. "Don't you give up on me now!"

They didn't, only because they could not afford to do so at the time; but in all actuality, even Coach himself began to lose hope of ever seeing the helicopter come roaring to their rescue. As they fervently battled on, the telltale sounds of the special infected lingered in the air; but like always, the survivors could not decipher from which direction they came from above all the clamor, nor could they determine by smell amidst the stench of scorched flesh that seemed to thicken into a fog.

"They're getting on stage!" Rochelle cried in horror, as she had no choice but to retreat backward. "We can't hold 'em off much longer!"

"Keep... fighting!" Coach grunted, violently rifle-butting an oncoming infected with new found fury. "Don't give up, Ro! Not now!"

Then all of a sudden, that familiar maniacal cackling erupted into the air. Without any warning aside from the sound, Nick was tackled by one of the bizarre hunched-back infected and stumbled offstage into the thickening mob of zombies that immediately began to strike him with diligent force. The creature jerked and strained in every direction, roaring with deranged laughter as it fought to bring Nick to the ground; Nick however, fought back furiously, screaming wildly in agony as the infected beat against his injured ribs and scratched at his body relentlessly.

"Hey where's that thing going with 'im?" Ellis stated, pointing at the infected face-humping Nick and firing at the horde surrounding him. "Now that's just not dignified."

"Help him, gah-dammit!" Coach snarled, fighting off several infected that kept him from doing so.

"Get this fuckin' thing off me!" Nick shrieked in a blind rage.

"Come on girl, I thought we were closer than that!" Ellis yelled, his eyes widening as Lily pointed her AK-47 in his direction.

He closed his eyes shut as she fired while crying out violently, making him flinch until he realized that he hadn't been shot. When he reopened them, several bodies were clumped all around him in piles, including that of the infamous Hunter infected, now reduced to a bloody mound on the floor. She grinned at him and shot him one of the many affable winks he seemed to throw her way every so often, granting him the pleasure of tasting his own medicine.

"You're welcome," she said, then immediately whirled around to leap offstage into the mob of infected and run toward Nick. "Hang on!"

Upon diving into the crowd, she landed with a hard thump directly in front of Nick's fallen axe. She retrieved it, swinging crazily at the onslaught that were stupid enough to come into direct contact with its bloody axehead until she reached Nick, who was still struggling with the thing riding on his back. With one precise blow to its head, she lodged the blade into its skull and immediately killed it, sending Nick to his knees on the floor. She could see his ribcage contracting desperately for air through his filthy blazer jacket as he struggled to get to his feet and ignore the vicious pain that threatened to keep him on the ground. Lily stepped on the officially lifeless corpse of the deranged infected, jerking the axehead free of its body and helping Nick to stand. Without a word, she shoved the weapon into his hands and clutched him by the arm, fighting through the horde still stampeding toward the others as they made their way back to the stage.

She pushed him up the ramp, spinning around to open fire into the approaching attack and effectively taking down the first succession. Upon changing direction to follow after Nick, she felt a cold hand clasp onto her ankle and send her to the ground with a harsh landing. Feeling her lip split and immediately tasting blood, she tried her best to turn her body around and kick her assailant before it got the chance to take a bite of her leg; she failed, and instantly felt its teeth sink into her calf with numbing force. Instantly, the second array of zombies began advancing on her, their clammy hands raking her flesh and dragging her toward them.

"Oh, mother_fuck_!" she cried in agony, feeling her skin breaking and hot blood pour from the new wound, staining her jeans further.

She fired her rifle madly into the crowd, blowing the head off of her oppressor and then some. She freed herself only momentarily, scrambling backward like a little crab onto the stage and desperately attempting to stand at the same time. She felt the warm human hands of Sergio help her to rise, but she didn't have time to turn and acknowledge her savior as she would have liked to. Immediately he bent down and took the bandanna from his head, wrapping a makeshift tourniquet around her leg and revealing his raven colored curls now mashed against his skull with sweat and blood.

"It worked! I love you Coach!" Nick suddenly yelled happily.

Like a miracle, the sound of helicopter rotors exploded through the noise, easily overpowering the pandemonium they were engulfed in. Each of their faces lit up slightly as they were only capable of catching a glimpse of their rescue flying overhead in their direction. At the same moment however, a section of the bleacher seats rattled viciously, swooning with the mass of a ghastly silhouette a ways ahead of them. The survivors turned to see, to their horror, a creature very heavily infected and swollen with muscles sized beyond human comprehension stampeding toward them at ridiculous speed. Its every step crushed the metal bleachers beneath its hulking weight as it tossed the meager infected aside like little toys, killing them instantly with its brutal and merciless force.

"Holy shit, what is that thing?" Rochelle screamed in terror.

"Light that mother up!" Ellis cried, firing wildly at the gargantuan creature.

The oversized infected emitted a bone-splitting bovine roar, tearing a hefty chunk of bleachers and concrete like a candy wrapper and hurling it toward the survivors as if it were a baseball. The hunk of mass crashed into the stage, crushing it instantly just as they all made their way off of it; the survivors stumbled momentarily, almost falling over with the impact but immediately continuing on their way, their minds clouded with hysteria. The earth seemed to quake as the creature mowed down the infected in its path and rampaged toward them madly, its elephantine profile growing in size as it approached them. Its crazed roaring threatened to petrify their limbs with horror as it advanced toward them, each second that passed shortening the distance between them significantly.

As they began to ascend the bleachers, that infamous wheezing cry blasted through the air, a sound all too familiar for the group. Lily whirled around upon hearing it, just in time to see the slimy rope tongue wrap around Sergio and begin tearing him backward toward the massive infected. At the same moment, a rain of bullets shot through the sky and the tongue fell away, loosing its victim as Lily grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him up toward her. They began running at full speed, fighting to maintain their balance as the bleachers began succumbing beneath the weight of the chopper and the colossal behemoth now just a breath away from reaching them.

Just as they reached the helicopter, which had now slowly began to ascend into the sky in fear that the creature would crush it, Lily felt her arm being torn in the opposite direction with frightening force; the weight of Sergio evaporated and an alarming emptiness compensated for his presence. The world seemed to melt into slow motion as she spun around, her heart frozen in utter horror as she watched him sail away in the clutches of the mammoth infected. With a revolting crackling sound, she saw his limp body being torn apart like a rag doll in a shower of crimson and gore. She didn't have time to think as every muscle, tendon and joint in her body tried to propel her forward, her lips forming his name and releasing it as a scream while she felt several hands lift her into the chopper, stopping her in her tracks.

The sound of the rotors overhead never allowed her to hear his name escape her lungs, but she knew she had screamed with all her might by the stinging in her throat. Her stomach dropped sickeningly and she could feel hot vomit start to rise like acid in her esophagus, but never come forth. Without warning, tears began to pour from her eyes like rain as she fought the arms that contained her, desperate to keep her inside while the aircraft rose further into the sky. Their blurry silhouettes shrank considerably and Sergio's agonized shrieks were drowned out by the bellowing of the engine as she watched with infernal dread until they became nothing but little flecks, soon disappearing into the forest of trees that was Griffin, Georgia.

"_No_!" she sobbed, her face buried into Coach's barrel chest.

The cockpit of the chopper was silent, save for the rotors booming loudly above them, as their attention fell away from the weeping girl and her fallen comrade empathetically. Their faces were wrenched with all kinds of unsettling emotion, their hearts still hammering from the hell they just escaped from. They said nothing, for they knew not what they should to comfort each other; they just listened as Lily continued to bawl and shiver in Coach's burly bronze arms, blubbering Sergio's name over and over and cursing herself. Nick sealed the door to the chamber, finally silencing the screaming wind that circulated the cockpit and fell back against his seat, heaving a sigh of relief and dread.

The pilot looked over his shoulder, motioning for them to retrieve the headsets placed on their seats and put them on so they could communicate with each other above the noise. They all did so with the exception of Lily, who sat rigidly on one of the seats in stunned silence as tears pathetically streaked her pale cheeks.

"Thanks for rescuin' us," Coach panted into the microphone of the headset as he seated himself in the co-pilot's seat. "That was a close one."

"No problem," the pilot replied, nodding in his direction. His skin was oddly pale and purple veins were visibly sprouting from his neck. "I swear those things can sense hope, and when they do they have to destroy it."

"Tell me about it," Rochelle moaned, rubbing her temples and smearing more blood on her face. "That was the hardest shit I've ever gone through."

"You been doin' this all day?" Coach asked, finally settled in his seat quite comfortably.

"Just about. I think you guys are gonna be my last run, though."

"Just take us as far from this hell as you can," Rochelle responded, her eyes observing Lily. "I'm so glad to finally be out of there."

"I'm guessing there aren't any actual doctors in your group, are there?" the pilot asked, a faint smile playing at his shaky lips.

"No, why?" Coach replied, his eyes narrowing only slightly.

"I'll be okay," the pilot responded quickly. "I'm just not feeling so well."

And so the cockpit fell silent once again, except for the constant whirring of the powerful propellers of the helicopter overhead. Conversation between Coach and the pilot remained, reminiscing about their families and various other memories for what became hours. Every so often, the pilot coughed and trembled rather vigorously, but it seemed like these symptoms were benign signs of a common cold. The passengers had fallen asleep in the back, their heads awkwardly hanging and bobbing with the motions of the chopper as they continued toward their destination in New Orleans. Through the gray clouds, faint signs of morning approaching painted the sky a gradually lightening shade of dark blue, with millions of little stars twinkling like diamonds above them. Still, the survivors had completely lost track of time; judging by the lack of light in the sky, they guessed it was almost twilight.

Ellis suddenly jerked forward, snorting in the process and snapping from his slumber, staring around with wild confusion. Upon seeing the survivors, he settled back into his seat next to Lily, his eyes drifting closed once again and almost immediately returning to his open mouthed stupor. Nick had settled in the seat closest to the door, stress constantly reminding him of the situation he currently resided in. He couldn't help but observe the pilot and listen as his coughing seemed to worsen into a phlegm-ridden hack from time to time. His flesh had become a ghastly shade of white, practically transparent; his purple veins had almost completely disappeared, compensated by red circles surrounding his eyes. Nick's hand rested on the holster of his handgun but he remained where he sat anyway.

After healing themselves, Lily and Rochelle had both fallen asleep, supporting each other as they slumped over one another quietly. Neither of them moved nor stirred from their position, though their faces were ridden with dread even as they tried to rest. The cockpit stank of human remains beginning to decompose, their clothes filthy and defiled with substances they couldn't and wished not to describe. Their guns had fallen to the floor in heaps, ammunition and what little was left of it clumped in a pile at their feet. Even as the helicopter faced a bit of turbulence, none of them awakened; Coach had finally passed out himself, his neck craned in a weird angle on the co-pilot's seat as he snored heartily beside the pilot.

The only two conscious were Nick and the pilot, whose condition seemed to progress negatively as the minutes stretched into hours. Nick had taken it upon himself to confront the pilot, who neither dismissed nor addressed the problem directly.

"What did you mean when you said this was 'your last run'?" Nick suddenly inquired, observing the man with obvious suspicion.

The pilot remained quiet for a moment, hesitating as he gathered the correct words to address the question without alarming him. His hands moved steadily on the steering wheel of the aircraft, his movements graceful with seasoned precision. He coughed weakly, seemingly providing the answer to the conscious survivor now riddled with apprehension, but decided to confess with his own words anyway.

"Well," he began uneasily, though his tone seemed to settle into an indescribable peacefulness. "Before you guys, I tried a street pick-up. I should've known better. I think... I think I got hit."

The dread that had always been residing within Nick's conscience had multiplied a hundredfold as he brought his slimy hands to rub his face with distress. A sigh escaped his lips and he shook his head, already aware of the unfortunate fate that the pilot was going to face.

"I'm getting really cold..."

Coach stirred from his sleep with a snort, his eyes scanning around in befuddlement.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, but was disregarded.

"I... I..."

The pilot was writhing around in what looked to be terrifying agony, his purple veins suddenly returning to the surface of his deathly pale flesh. From deep within his throat, his words had become a garbled incoherent grumbling, and he wretched and contorted his body to accompany the sounds that the survivors had grown all too familiar with. Ellis had snapped awake among the clamor, his eyes immediately focusing on Nick as he unsheathed his pistol and began to load it with a freshly packed magazine.

"What the hell are you doin', Nick?" Ellis inquired, wide-eyed; but like Coach, he was also ignored.

"Nick?" Rochelle questioned, her eyes still hazy from sleep. She screwed up her face and upon noticing the gun in Nick's hand, as well as the pilot no longer expressing any sort of normalcy, she began to panic.

The pilot seemed to know what was coming however, and turned to look at Nick as he had stood up and stared into the barrel of the gun rather sadly. His eyes were turning that familiar feral yellow, the sadness still eminent but quickly becoming wild and inhumane. His groaning morphed into growling, and as he gnashed his teeth in pain, he suddenly bared them furiously.

"I'm sorry," Nick said, placing the gun at the pilot's head and pressing the trigger just as he tried to lunge.

A rain of blood and brain matter splattered onto the console that was the control panel and the body of the pilot slumped lifelessly off to the side, falling to the floor in a heap. Immediately, Nick settled into the pilot's seat, his eyes dancing madly along the array of buttons and levers that he was completely unfamiliar with.

"What the hell, Nick?" Ellis yelled angrily, still stunned at the unmoving corpse on the ground. "You shot the pilot!"

"Anybody know how to fly this thing?" Nick screamed among the pandemonium of questions, accusations and roaring engines. "Agh, shit!"

The helicopter suddenly jerked violently as it collided with an enormous tree from hoovering too closely to the earth. The engine screamed wildly as it seemed to be malfunctioning, much to the survivors' horror. Their weapons and ammunition jumped around crazily in the cockpit, hitting the survivors and they scrambled with their seat belts to secure themselves. Rochelle began to cry, her mouth forming an unheard prayer as she babbled on desperately to a God no one could see. Lily grasped Ellis by the hand, their fingers interlacing into an airtight seal as they shut their eyes and awaited their fate while the chopper took a nose dive directly into the swampy ground below.


	8. Blue Bayou

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Swamp Fever, Part One_

Ellis awoke with a start.

The lucky bastard hadn't suffered the injuries that his comrades had; although, his head was hurting something fierce. His heart hammering and beads of sticky sweat dripping from his skin, he scuffled around beneath the ruins of what was once the rescue chopper in the process of being consumed by fire. Ignoring the stinging pain beneath his calloused hands as he crawled around on broken glass and metal debris, he found the other survivors strewn about and unconscious, each of them unmoving and bleeding. He scrambled over to Lily, whom was the closest, violently shaking her until she opened her eyes.

"C'mon, get your ass up! Let's go!" he said, almost in a panic as he began to unravel her from her seat belt.

She didn't bother to ask questions as she fell from the security of her belt into the partially crushed cockpit, swaying for a moment with the migraine that was making her vision a little hazy. As if to plead for direction, she gazed over at Ellis who was struggling to awaken Rochelle from unconsciousness and free her from the seat belt as well. Lily then made her way awkwardly through the slanted chamber toward Coach and Nick, whose head was slumped over the control panel now smashed to bits with an enormous oozing gash on the side of his head.

"Get up, get up, get up!" she pleaded, shaking him by the shoulders until he moaned and cursed himself to consciousness.

By that time, the entire cockpit had filled with smoke and the fire was threatening to completely engulf them. Unsure of what to do, Lily left him and went over to Coach, performing the same reawakening ritual as she had with Nick. Coach grumbled something and slowly opened his eyes, squinting immediately at the brightness of the fire before him. He unbuckled his seat belt and fell off to the side, groaning as he stretched his aching limbs the best he could in the tiny space of the chamber.

"Oh, shit!" he said, then immediately began ripping his way through the ruins to get out of the chopper.

And so it went, the survivors fought the debris through and through until they managed to crawl out of the aircraft and into the foul morning air. The smell of mud and wet grass and a violent, relentless brigade of mosquitoes greeted and welcomed them into the heavily wooded swampland, following them to the train tracks, where indeed the locomotive had crashed. The sun was lazily peaking its bright head above the clouds, threatening to make the hot muggy air into a further hellish climate as the five hoisted themselves into a cabin car of the freight train.

"What in the hell are we gon' do?" Ellis inquired, his eyes scanning the dark compartment uneasily. "Where are we?"

"Kid, if I knew I'd _tell_ you," Coach grumbled in response, rubbing his throbbing temples with a heavy sigh. "Did our guns make it in one piece?"

"Wanna go back an' check?"

"Not really."

An explosion resounded behind them, startling flocks of birds from the trees into the sky and rattling the ground a bit; their faces dropped in expression, their agitation piquing with every passing moment spent in the boxcar. Nick stirred from his dormant stupor, gradually coming to as he lay strewn on the floor and mumbled something beneath his breath. His eyelids slowly peeled back and blinked his blue eyes into focus while he strained to sit upright against the wall and stare around in confusion.

"Where the hell... ?" he began, rubbing his face free from the blood crusted on it.

"Don't even ask," Coach said, rummaging through a wooden crate to find small packages of SMG ammunition but no weapon.

"Our guns... ?"

"Didn't make it," Ellis responded, prying another crate open with a crowbar. "Looks like we got to start all over."

"Agh, shit. How long was I out for?"

"Dunno. I'd say about an hour or two, judgin' by the daylight and the time you shot the damn pilot."

"Well he wasn't doing a very good job when he was turning into a zombie now, was he?"

Rochelle moaned softly, moving around before fully opening her eyes to greet the others with stunned silence. For a moment she was confused, as the others before her had been; but upon piecing the situation together again, she heaved a sigh and sat among the silent group of five in befuddlement. She scratched at her ear still ringing from the concert, feeling that one of the golden hoops dangling from them was missing and was now replaced by an earlobe crusted over with blood.

"That's true," she added, stretching the muscles in her neck. "If I had to pick a low point in the flight, it's probably when he stopped flying the chopper and attacked us. Anyone know where we are?"

Lily pushed herself up to a seated position, rubbing her face and immediately recoiling with pain caused by the glass fragments lodged in her skin. She clutched her throbbing head and moaned, leaning back against the metal wall of the freighter before eying the others with an unhappy demeanor. As the recollection of earlier events began to settle over her like morning fog, her expression almost instantly changed, and her muddy eyes darkened even more so than originally. She brought her wounded leg with the bandanna tourniquet up to eyesight and sighed, shaking her head and fingering the rosary attached to her neck.

"That's fantastic," Nick moaned, poking his head out of the entrance to the boxcar and scanning around to notice a less than welcoming green sign strewn across a barricade. "We crashed in the middle of nowhere by a town that hates everyone. They probably should've added 'no zombies' to that sign."

Ellis opened his mouth the comment on the reason for the mishap in the first place, but an evil glare on Nick's behalf immediately silenced him. Instead, he retrieved two unloaded sub machine guns from the crate and placed them on the floor, his eyes dancing around the others to see who would reach for them first. Only Nick reached for the gun, and when no one else bothered to move Ellis took the second weapon for himself. Rochelle took the crowbar, leaving Coach and Lily with nothing but the pistols miraculously still holstered on their thighs and low on ammunition.

"You think there's still people in that town?" Rochelle asked, throwing both legs over the edge of the boxcar and watching the others.

"We're about to find out," Coach replied, lowering himself to the ground with a grunt. A low rumbling started in his belly, and his features dropped with sadness, though he said nothing further.

The group of five made their way toward the wall of wire fencing in front of an abandoned gas station, their eyes scanning the sign above it that warned against military personnel and CEDA, ordering them to stay out. The convenience store had been boarded shut and didn't seemed to be functioning (obviously), as there was a sign nailed to one of the two by fours that said they were out of gas. The others said nothing and continued on their way, passing a freighter truck and an empty warehouse until they appeared in a clearing in the middle of the woods. A long trail wound into the rest of the village hidden by the dark trees, and the survivors shared a look before they kept walking on.

The foliage was so thick and tall that the sunlight seemed to be fighting to shed light on them, but to no avail; mosquitoes and gnats were abundant in number and dense, rude hordes, buzzing after them while biting at their skin as they went on. The earth beneath them was damp with morning dew and the air was heavy with mugginess, unfriendly to their lungs as they labored to draw healthy breaths. As they came closer to the quaint little town, the soft sound of music crooned into the atmosphere.

"Earl's Gator Village?" Lily whispered to herself as she read the chipped painted letters on one of the buildings. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

"Y'all keep a look out for blood farmers," Ellis suddenly said, his voice harnessing a grave tone as he widened his blue eyes at them. "I'm serious. Instead of growing crops... they grow _people. _To _eat._"

"Do you guys hear that?" Nick asked, as he stopped on the trail in the middle of a row of dark houses. The music they had heard before was barely loud enough for them to decipher the lyrics.

"Someone's still alive," Rochelle said, listening closely to the only sound besides the hissing of bugs in the trees. "Which house is it coming from?"

"Aw man, I _love_ this song!" Ellis stated with a wide grin.

"I know this song," Lily said, wandering off on her own toward a house almost completely covered by the forest.

_I'm goin' back someday, come what may to Blue Bayou..._

She pushed through the brush with her fingers, ignoring the slap of sticks and leaves against her skin as she did so. Her boots sank a little as she stepped through the moist earth toward the humble little house with curious eyes, feeling the heat rise in her chest rather nervously as her heartbeat synchronized with the song. The others failed to notice that she left, exploring around the rest of the village instead and following their own perception of where the sound was coming from.

_Where the folks are fine and the world is mine on Blue Bayou..._

She reached the porch of the house, the wooden planks beneath her groaning with her weight as she knocked softly on the door. When there was no response, she gingerly cried out with a tiny, "Is anybody home?" and twisted the doorknob, not surprised at all to find it unlocked. Something flashed in her mind, much like the reel of a movie film, but she was unsure of what it was as she pushed the door open slowly. It creaked all the way, allowing what little of the sunlight there was outside to cast a faint glow into the living quarters that seemed to be vacant. The music playing grew louder and louder, as though she were getting close; she stepped through the threshold and searched around with her eyes, finding nothing but the belongings of whoever occupied the home.

"Hello?" she said, the only sound besides the music playing and her footsteps to greet her.

_Gonna see my baby again, gonna be with some of my friends... Maybe I'll feel better again on Blue Bayou..._

Suddenly, she could hear footsteps approaching her from behind loudly. When she turned to look, she saw Ellis materialize on the porch with his weapon and a smile. His skin was glazed over with sweat from the mugginess of the climate, but other than that he seemed unphased by the whole situation. He nodded in her direction, putting his index finger to his lips as to signal her to be quiet, even though he was the one making the racket with his clumsy steps. He then proceeded to infiltrating the living quarters, stopping every so often to examine a trinket or object that appealed to his eye.

"Aww, look Lily! This kid looks just like you!" he cooed suddenly, holding up a picture frame in his hands with a dorky grin.

"Overalls, where the hell did you run off to? I need your help with something..." came Nick's voice somewhere in the distance.

It only took Ellis a fraction of a second to set down the picture again and practically leap out of the house back into the woods, his response echoing through the walls of the house as he faded into the foliage again. Left alone, Lily continued to explore, walking over to the handsome standing cupboard from where Ellis had found the supposed doppelganger. She retrieved the photograph and screwed up her face upon seeing the image of a curly-haired little girl wearing a frilly dress and cowboy boots, sitting primly on the lap of a wrinkled old man with his tall, slender wife standing beside them. Their faces were brimming with joy, and even though the picture was black and white she could see the happiness clearly sculpted on their features.

For a moment she forgot the song was even playing until she heard the floorboards creak again and a high-pitched squeal and slurping sound. Startled, she dropped the photo with an alarming crackle, shattering the glass in an array of little sparkling shards.

"Ellis? That ain't funny," she said nervously, bending down to gather the pieces.

The squeaking stopped, now replaced by a sound like bacon sizzling on a hot skillet; the slurping continued however, accumulating to her uneasiness until she heard his familiar cumbersome footsteps again. This time they sounded like they were coming from inside the house, but she was too relieved to consider anything else besides his presence to comfort her.

_I'm goin' back someday, come what may to Blue Bayou..._

"Shit!"

She dropped the picture frame and all the little pieces of glass onto the floor again, bringing her bleeding finger to her mouth to suck on the cut. She then blew on it and waved it frantically, cursing at the pain and proceeding to collecting the mess on the floor once more. The floorboards creaked and the heavy footsteps grew louder until they stopped and she could hear a wheezing breath a few feet in front of her. She looked up and immediately flew back into the wall, her eyes wide with horror at the thing in front of her that was clearly not Ellis.

"_Nanan_?"

The infected watched her with its beady little eyes, its head craned to the side as if it were studying her. The creature was clearly a female, for it wore tattered jeans that were ripped in places and dirty undergarments, flaunting its features that were sagging with age. It stood oddly with its arms retracted to its sides much like a bird, panting but not moving otherwise. Its horrible face was literally falling apart; its mouth was gaping wide open, revealing the long tunnel that was its throat and the skin of its jaw seeming to have melted, causing it to hang at an awkward angle. Its nose had completely deteriorated as well, leaving two empty cavities where the cartilage should have been instead.

For a few moments, the creature seemed somewhat sad more than curious, but that instinct quickly evolved into the madness associated with the infection. It lunged for Lily, its movements clumsy as it swiped its gawky limbs and collided into the cupboard, sending dishes and other things to the ground with a loud crash. Lily spun around and tumbled over a sofa, landing hard on the wooden floor and scrambling toward the open front door. Suddenly the sizzling came back, and when she looked up she could see some neon green substance seeping from the creature's mouth onto the ground, causing the noise. In the wake of the green droplets, little holes were burned into the boards like some kind of acidic decomposition.

The creature lunged again, this time shooting a trail of the slime from its throat and covering Lily in it. The smell of burned hair and skin filled her nostrils as the horrible stinging sensation erupted on the flesh of her back, disintegrating through the cloth of her clothes and scorching parts of her hair. She wailed in agony, scrambling through the gunk in a pathetic crawl toward the door until the creature took hold of her ankle and started dragging her away in a squealing fit.

_Oh some sweet day, gonna take away this hurtin' inside..._

She now lay at the foot of the infected standing awkwardly in front of her, its long neck craning in her direction as to inspect her. Its tiny yellow eyes scanned her from top to bottom, and for one horrifying moment, she realized that she was staring into the face of what was once her godmother. She could literally hear herself burning in the goo, but the physical pain she felt was overcome with sorrow as she suddenly began to cry again, ignoring its claws raking across her shoulders.

_Well I'll never be blue, my dreams come true..._

Her vision was becoming hazy, and the terrifying image of the creature was fading in and out of perspective with each second passing. She could feel the floorboards vibrating beneath her as though people were running on top of them, and hear familiar voices faintly crying out to her in the distance.

_On Blue..._

Those familiar explosions sounded in the air, and before the world completely faded to black, she saw the creature topple lifelessly to the ground beside her, cooking itself in a pool of its own acid. The final lyric of the song faded away as she succumbed to the darkness after catching the last glimpse of her fallen family member.

"Nick's mom!" Ellis stated upon seeing the infected deteriorating on the ground beside Lily.

The only acknowledgment he received was a murderous glare from Nick, who then decided to ignore him and drag Lily away from the sizzling puddle of gunk. She stirred upon feeling his graceless grasp around her wrists, blinking her swampy eyes into focus to stare up into his agitated face, a lit cigarette now poking from between his lips. She searched around for a moment, pulling herself to sit with a stifled groan until she gathered enough composure to rise to her feet.

"You're like a goddamn zombie magnet," Nick said as he watched her sway with disorientation, exhaling a trail of smoke in her direction. "One more time and you'll be fucked, Texas."

"Thank you," she muttered, her demeanor expressing no sincerity as she hobbled away in search of first aid.

"Damn, that thing did _that_ to you?" Ellis inquired with wide eyes. "That's kinda what Keith looked like after this one time -"

"That _thing_ was my auntie."

He stood in flustered silence as he watched her walk away, his eyes focused on the bright red flesh of her back now burned severely with several blistering sores. The fabric of her t-shirt clung loosely around her little frame, revealing the once elaborate tattoo of lily flowers sweeping across her entire right side now partially deformed by her injuries. She turned a corner and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Ellis to stand awkwardly among his original comrades.

"Nice one, Ellis," Rochelle said, walking through the wreckage to get to the kitchen.

"That is the scariest fuckin' zombie I have ever seen," Nick mumbled to himself, squatting down to get a closer look at the corpse. "What the hell is this stuff?"

He poked a finger in the goo and immediately recoiled, hissing in agony as the flesh on the tip of his finger fizzled. He shook his finger until the feeling waned, standing to look at the befuddled group of survivors that watched him with a mixture of repressed amusement and shock. Ellis was the only one who burst out in a series of giggles, but quickly silenced when Nick glowered hatefully at him. The creature was already decomposing into nothing but a skeleton, and the floorboards beneath and around it were melting away into oblivion.

"Ow!" came Lily's echo from the bathroom, followed by a series of colorful curse words.

She reappeared with a towel in her hands and ambled over to where the corpse had been, now reduced to a pile of fleshy bones and plank boards almost melted to the foundation. She dropped the towel crudely over the remains and was about to walk away when a scream shattered the tension in the air, morphing it into a babel of confusion and fear. The others turned to the direction of the sound and saw Rochelle stumbling from the hallway toward the kitchen with a terrified expression on her face, pointing toward the bedroom.

The others fell into step beside her, their eyes peering through the crack in the door that had fallen partially closed with her recoil. Nick pushed it open, instantly wishing he hadn't as the scene of a half melted corpse stretching toward a skipping record player entered his line of sight. The smell that came from the room was nauseating, causing each of the survivors to withdraw in utter disgust, save for Lily, who stood in the threshold and stared for a few moments.

"Jesus _Christ_," Nick muttered, looking away and allowing the door to fall closed again.

"Let's get out of here," Lily said, turning around to leave. "The town's gone to hell."

And so as it went for the next half hour or so, they searched the town for useful items, only finding every building broken into and abandoned. Were it not for the occasional lingering infected running crazily from the woods, the little gator farm would be considered a ghost town of the like. The only available makeshift weapons and items they happened to come across were a machete beginning to rust from overbearing use, an axe lodged in a tree, and several cartons of cheap cigarettes from a busted dispenser in the diner. These were distributed among Coach and Lily (except for the cigarettes, which only Nick kept), who had nothing but dinky handguns to their own; and when they grew tired of listening to the constant skip of a record player and weird buzzing cicadas, they called for the wire ferry to reach the other side of the bayou.

"Swimmin' with gators?" Ellis asked himself, stopping in front of a warning sign. "Why no thank you."

"God, that's awful," Lily said, her eyes falling away from the curious infected figure tangled on a post above them. "I can't stand this place much longer."

"You're not the only one," Rochelle muttered, walking past her and sighing.

They crossed the dock and waited as the ferry slowly hummed in their direction, the lantern hanging beneath its tarp dancing with the movement and bathing the murky water in a sickly green glow. The outlines of creatures could faintly be seen swimming around beneath, immediately dispersing as the boat reached the landing dock and dropped the gate on its own. A painted sign had been propped up against the reel of the ferry, indicating that whoever had inhabited the tiny town retreated to a place called Village des Marais.

"I guess that's where we're headin'," Coach said, climbing aboard the boat and waiting until everyone did the same to start it up again.

"Y'all be honest with me," Ellis stated, resting on one of the seats and slightly flexing an arm. "Do my muscles look like they're gettin' bigger?"

"I don't know," Rochelle answered awkwardly. "Maybe?"

"I knew it. All this runnin' around and climbin' over shit is makin' me buff as hell."

"After seein' what we did, you're really gonna keep puffin' on those cancer sticks, Nick?" Coach questioned, watching as the conman sucked passionately on another cigarette.

"You got to enjoy the little things in life, big guy," he responded, pillars of smoke flowing from his nostrils as he spoke. "I've been cryin' for nicotine since the start of the apocalypse."

"When you turn into one of those tongue things, I'll be sayin' I told you so, while I bust a cap in your ass."

"Not if I choke you first."

"God so help me if you even try, white boy..."

"What's that tattoo mean?" Lily interrupted, aiming a little finger at the tribal print stretching the span of Ellis' bicep.

"Oh this here? It means I'm a bad-ass zombie killin' machine," Ellis replied with a grin.

She watched him for a moment, unsure if he was going to continue explaining or leave his response as it was, however vague he made it seem. Rochelle encouraged the apparent joke by praising his foresight, and the entire conversation was dropped as the ferry halted at the entrance of a swamp. The smell of mud and fresh water fish replaced the revolting stench of rotting remains, but the mosquitoes and gnats were still so ever present and bothersome that it failed to ease any of their apprehension. As a matter of fact, the hordes of insects seemed to grow more and more dense until they were almost like clouds of smoke hovering above the stagnant green water of the bayou.

With a shared look of disdain, the survivors stepped out onto the wooden dock that groaned with their weight beneath them. Following direct orders from Coach to remain on the plank board path, they proceeded to taking a dark tour through the murky bog and begin their search for the designated village retreat.


	9. Ragin' Cajun

**SOUTHERN COMFORT**  
_Swamp Fever, Part Two_

"Ugh, we've been walking through this shit for hours!" Rochelle complained, swatting a brigade of mosquitoes away from her face. "Anybody got bug spray?"

"No, but there's a shit ton o' mud," Ellis responded, sloshing forward through the muck fearlessly. "We got lots of that."

"Aw shit. This swamp water is gonna ruin my suit."

"The suit with zombie brains all over it?" Rochelle shot back, chuckling. "That one?"

"Brains come out, swamp water doesn't. Don't ask me how I know this."

Their feet made an endless symphony of suction sounds as they sank and rose into the dark muck of the bog, each of their steps becoming more labored. They had been walking through the swamp for what seemed like centuries, passing odd rickety shacks suspended on stilts and beams in little clusters, most of them having been destroyed or abandoned. Their legs were sore from pulling their weight and the merciless heat from the midday sun added relentlessly to their weariness. Coach and Lily had been leading the way, hacking at scraggly branches with their axe and machete; their actions were rendered worthless as the time stretched into hours, and as they traveled deeper into the swamp, the foliage seemed never ending.

"Where in the _hell_ are we?" Coach asked, stopping near a beached raft to observe the clearing ahead of them.

The soft earth stretched into even more swampland, heavily wooded with tall, scraggly trees; in the horizon, they could see the silhouette of a human figure suspended in the treetops by a parachute, swaying slowly side to side. Slightly horrified, they approached the figure that appeared to be a solider still dressed in his digital camouflage fatigues and thoroughly armed. Whatever the objective of the suicide skydive was a mystery as they paid momentary respects, save for Nick, who continued walking toward the blazing sky alive with daylight without so much as a glance at the corpse.

"Don't make no sense for him to parachute out here," Ellis said, placing his hat back on his head.

"Damn this _heat!" _Rochelle hissed, fanning herself crazily with one hand. "It's killing me! I hate this place!"

"If y'all hadn't slept so long in the drain pipe, we would've probably made it to des Marais by now," Lily stated, marching through knee deep muck.

"Y'all stop complainin'," Coach muttered, slicing through the long fingers of the foliage ahead of them. "It's almost over, I can feel it."

"Meaning... we're almost _dead_," Nick quipped, huffing breathlessly beside Ellis. "These damn mosquitoes are gonna kill me before the zombies do."

"Man all this mud reminds me of my friend Keith," Ellis chimed happily. "Yeah he was gonna build a shack once to live in and all, and I know most people they build houses and _become_ shacks, but Keith he was about jumpin' right to the shack stage; but he had no wood, so he got some mud and he was makin' what we all thought was gonna be these adobe bricks - you know, like when the people out west made bricks and shit - well he had mud, and -"

"Ellis? Is now the best time?"

"Okay..."

A small distance ahead of them, a wild orange glow stretched into the sky, columns of smoke spiraling away into the brighter atmosphere. The survivors each shared a puzzled look, immediately ending all conversation to search the phenomenon. As they scrambled through the fetid marsh to the direction of the sight, they stopped in terror as the image of a house ablaze filled their lines of sight. The shanty little shack actually founded on the ground instead of beams was engulfed in flames for an unknown reason. The wildfire seemed to have just started, but even so, nothing remained of the houses but pillars of ash falling in pieces to the ground.

Through the roaring of the flames and matter falling to the floor, cries unlike any they had ever heard before joined the ensemble. Even through the crazy yellow vibrancy of the fire, they could see distorted silhouettes writhing in agony, presumably the cause of the noise. Without so much as a second thought, Ellis ran as close to the inferno as he could tolerate, shielding his face from sputtering debris. He didn't have time to react as an enormous, log-like thing broke through the scorching pillars that remained of the house with a horrifying bovine cry and slam him backward. The blunt force of the impact sent an unbearable pain through his stomach as he fell to the swampy earth, smacking his head on the way down.

"Ellis!" someone cried, but he couldn't hear who above the continuous blood-curdling sound of the creature looming above him.

Its feral glowing eyes stared down at him mercilessly, its face contorted into an expression of permanent madness; what was even more terrifying was the grotesque mutation of its body, and although Ellis could only catch a glimpse of it before he felt himself being lifted from the ground, the sight was chilling.

"It's got me!" he shrieked, pounding his balled hands into the massive fist coiled around his midsection.

His breath was sucked from his lungs as he was pummeled into the ground by the creature again, seeming to enjoy tenderizing his next meal. He groaned in agony, continuing the flail around and fight in the solid grip of the infected as best as he could. A rain of bullets exploded from the barrels of a sub machine gun and Magnum pistol, lodging themselves into the skull of the creature without so much as a wince on its behalf. It seemed to grow angrier and its grip tightened, effectively choking the rest of Ellis' breath from his body. His head began to spin and blackness threatened to incapacitate his vision, but the sound of bones crackling and a sudden surge of oxygen into his chest halted the notion.

Ellis landed harshly back onto the marshy ground, amazed at what little damage he had taken but still wobbling on the brink of unconsciousness. He lay there for several minutes, breathing heavily until the loud pounding of his heart inside his head quieted and the silhouettes of his comrades flooded his peripherals.

"Ellis? You okay, baby? Talk to me!" came Rochelle's frantic voice, her hands searching his ribs for breakage.

"Look at that _tiny _arm!" he shouted, ignoring Rochelle as he observed the remains of the infected beside him.

"Look at that _big_ one."

"God _damn it_, Overalls!" Nick cursed, jogging up to him. "I thought you were fucked, you stupid bastard!"

"Hey now! That was just uncalled for."

"_Guns!_" Lily suddenly exclaimed, bursting like a bolt of lightning from behind the others to reach a boat dock. "I ain't ever been so happy to see a gun in my whole life!"

On the rickety dock lay a tactical automatic shotgun, a hunting rifle, and several packages of ammunition for them. Placed strategically on a fishing table beside these weapons were two crudely constructed pipe bombs and a shot of adrenaline, which Lily left for the others. She immediately grasped the chrome shotgun in her hands, almost embracing it as if it were human, then proceeded to loading ten shells and cocking it. A satisfied smile played at her fleshy lips as she turned to the others, showcasing her findings happily.

"Well ain't that a load o' shit!" Ellis cried almost gleefully, looking at the bucket with a toilet seat placed over its mouth. The makeshift toilet was filled to the brim with feces and other things and smelled terrible, but for some reason struck him as hilarious.

"Do you see that?" Nick suddenly asked, pointing above the treetops ahead of them at a plume of black smoke rising into the sky.

"Aw shit," Coach muttered, loading his new hunting rifle and running off in the direction of the smolder. "That better not be the village."

"It's a god damn airplane!"

As the others ran through the foliage, the scene of a brutal wreck filled their line of sight. The entire aircraft was smashed to bits, strewn about the swampland before them in a colossal barricade of fiery debris; much to their dismay, it seemed like hundreds of bodies were piled around the plane, having fallen through the broken cavity and leaving a trail of lifeblood in their wake. Luggage and clothing and even corpses of children were floating above the waist high water like bobbing apples, accumulating to the horrible picture.

"That's one scary flight," Ellis commented under his breath, carefully walking through the flood of cadavers toward the plane.

It seemed as though the only way to the other side of the bayou was through an exit door of the plane that curiously remained intact. Nick especially detested their situation, cursing profusely and without courtesy as he made his way through the slanted cabin of the airplane and hesitantly pulled open the shaft. For a moment, it didn't adhere to the pressure applied solely by the handle and only budged with a violent screaming alarm as Nick kicked his way through. The metal door flew off to the side with a loud clang, a mere pin drop in comparison to the siren blaring into the sky.

"Y'all get ready!"

Instantly, the blood-chilling telltale cries of the infected added to the noise, followed by dozens upon dozens of the loathsome things scrambling furiously toward them from all directions. It was as if they had appeared from nowhere, falling from trees or sprouting from beneath the surface of the mud as they scaled the sides and wings of the fallen aircraft toward their targets frozen in their steps. The first wave hit with a violent blow to the survivors, separating them throughout the cockpit of the plane as they battled on.

"What do we do?" Rochelle pleaded, fighting off a mob of sopping wet infected with her crowbar.

Confined to the tight, awkward capacity of the crushed aircraft, the survivors found it difficult to maneuver their way back to each other and soon felt the entire thing rolling side to side with the hulking weight of the throng of zombies climbing it. Only Nick had somehow managed to remain near the exit, firing at the onslaught that swarmed from the open cavity and from behind, miraculously unaffected by the rocking foundation beneath him.

He blasted several rounds from his sub machine gun into a flock of infected surrounding Rochelle, who was nearest, yanking her by the arm toward him and pushing her out through the shaft. She stumbled onto the wing of the plane, puzzled for a moment at the sudden change in atmosphere, but was immediately reverted to alertness as more of the zombies began to crowd her again. The screaming siren was suddenly becoming slightly muffled by the zombies crawling all over the aircraft, albeit not very much at all. She could hear Nick groaning amidst his sparks of gunfire, almost beneath her now as the plane shifted again with the force of the infected.

"Get the fuck out of the plane NOW!" he screamed, all of a sudden aware that the craft was rolling over by the rise of swamp water in the cabin.

"This is some fuckin' Titanic shit!" Ellis cried almost merrily as his face appeared by the door. "Woohoo!"

"Overalls, get Coach and Texas out of here!" Nick barked, thrusting the butt of his gun into the face of an attacking infected. He punctuated his sentence with a shot from his weapon.

"C'mon, Coach," Lily said, shoving him upward before spinning around to blast away a succession of infected barreling toward her. "Up we go!"

By that time, the floor of the cabin had began to tilt off almost to the point of knocking the survivors to their knees, yet still maintained enough gravitational pull to keep them on their feet. Lily strained to help the older man toward the open cavity, now just a tiny beam of sunlight by the crowd of infected pouring from it in endless streams. She could feel the recoil of his hunting rifle as he slightly jolted backward from firing bullet after bullet, clearing a temporary trail to the exit.

"Guys! I need a little help here!" Rochelle shouted, her voice almost a muffled whisper through the flock of infected entombing her.

"Go, Coach! GO!" Lily screamed, watching momentarily as he scrambled through the shaft, ignoring the merciless beating of the infected fighting to break through.

With her back still pressed to him, she hoisted him the rest of the way through the cavity until he passed, staggering onto the wing to join Rochelle in battle. The sounds of his grunts and rifle fire encouraged her somewhat as she continued to fight from inside the cockpit, struggling to make it through herself.

"JOCKEY!" Rochelle suddenly shrieked.

Before Lily could ask what the hell that specifically was, she latched on to the threshold of the exit and stared straight ahead at a bouncing monkey of an infected, its crooked form leaping toward her. She had no time to react as it slammed into her face, knocking her into the watery level of the cabin with blunt force and a cackling fit. Almost instantly, a rain of bullets from a sub machine gun ripped the thing to pieces, and she felt a calloused, yet very reassuring hand grip her arm. A violent tug lifted her from the flooded seats of the plane onto higher ground, threatening to yank her arm clean off her shoulder as she collided into Ellis and several more infected.

The entire aircraft groaned loudly as it shifted again, almost throwing the survivors back into the swamp.

Lily unsheathed her machete and began hacking away at the barricade of zombies ahead of her, carving an exit toward the door and following Ellis out of it. In their scrambling haste, they suddenly realized that Nick was still inside, and the airplane was on the brink of coming down on him completely. She watched as Ellis broke open a window, aiming carefully at the onslaught of infected swallowing his friend and firing. Then she whirled around, blasting a shell into approaching infected alongside Rochelle and Coach, too preoccupied with zombies to offer to lend a hand.

"Nick!" Ellis called through the window, his voice rattling in a panic. "Get to the door, c'mon!"

Her heart suddenly started beating in a frenzy as she could barely see Nick's silhouette fighting his way through the cabin of the aircraft, while the moaning of its shifting threatened to trap him in a swampy tomb. The blunt force of a cold, deteriorating limb settled the dread in her mind as she staggered around for a bit, ignoring the pain bubbling from the injuries on her back as they were beaten remorselessly. Her shotgun had run out of its ten shells, and there was no time to reload it as Nick struggled to get to the exit shaft and she fought to help him.

"Nick, grab my hand!" she cried out, steadying herself against the threshold while the airplane shifted again.

It was almost as though she were staring into a hole directly in the ground, for the aircraft had almost totally reached its side. Coach, Ellis and Rochelle had all been thrown from the wing, still firing at the succession of zombies running madly toward them. She thrust her arm through the door and reached for Nick, practically swimming through the watery cockpit as he used the seats like rungs on a ladder. His white sleeve shot toward her and she grasped him, yanking toward her with all her might despite his slick, wet skin slipping from her grasp and the constant pummeling of the zombies behind her. With one final pull, they fell off to the side, barreling through the infected and splashing into the neck deep water below.

The liquefied mud and bog water surged into their mouths and nostrils as they whirled around beneath its surface, flailing desperately to reach the top or ground with their feet as the bodies of drowning infected beat and battered them. After much chaotic struggle, their heads thrust above the swirling green waters and sucked in blessed oxygen, pathetically swimming toward the figures of their comrades in the distance. Within a few feet of the dock, a pair of helping hands hoisted them on the sturdy plank board ground, allowing them to catch their breath.

Nick landed flat on his back with a slapping noise, the rapid rise and fall of his chest synchronizing with that of Lily's. His white suit was stained yellow from the water of the bayou, his flesh caked with grime now a fetid mud dripping from his features; his jewelry however, sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight, boasting their useless and magnificent iridescence despite his now haggard appearance. It was that moment that they realized their familiar friends were nowhere to be seen.

"Y'all two was gon' be gator feed!" called a gruff voice thick with an unfamiliar accent, even more so than either Lily's or Ellis'. "Ya almos' wasn' gon' make it out de bayou!"

Lily screamed upon seeing a bronze face suddenly appear above her, and like a reflex, her arm shot upward in defense, punching the man away with a loud smack. She rolled over onto her back, scrambling backward in attempt to stand and watched wide-eyed as the man clutched his face, stomping his foot to the ground almost as if he were dancing. He wore nothing but tattered overalls hanging by one strap, shiny alligator boots, and a patch over his left eye.

"Gooolly, _cher!_ Now whatcha go an' do dat fer?"

"I-I'm sorry," she sputtered stupidly. "You just- you just gave me a good scare!"

He straightened himself almost instantly, his features spreading into a wide grin, bearing several missing teeth and one particular golden one. He appeared to be just a few years younger than Nick and his physique was impressively well sculpted, despite the monstrous revolting scars slashing through his arms and throughout his body. Resting around his thick throat was a necklace of enormous jagged teeth, presumably belonging once to an unfortunate alligator - or a tyrannosaurus Rex.

"_Je m'excuse_, _ma cherie_," he said, his tone genuinely saccharine. "Didn' mean ta frighten ya."

"Alright, French fry. Where's Ellis?" Nick barked, rising to his feet. "...Rochelle? Coach?"

"_Ain?_ I dunno who dem be, _monsieur._"

"Ellis! He's about yay high," Nick explained, clearly irritated as he gestured with his band. "With a pretty black woman and heavy set man."

"Ohhhh yez! Dem folks runnin' off after a Smokey... Dey pro'lly in de safe room by now I tink," the man replied, his eyes never leaving Lily. "Ain't too fa' from here."

"Thank Christ."

"Would ya like fer me ta take ya der?"

"Could you please?" Lily pleaded sweetly before Nick could sarcastically respond. "They're our friends. We'd really appreciate it."

The one-eyed man nodded gingerly at her, not before flashing another one of his toothy smiles. His hazel eye glistened like an amber opal in the sunlight as he motioned for Nick and Lily to follow, still bemused at how fast the other survivors had left them. Lily could see the avid mistrust in Nick's eyes as he cautiously fell into step beside her. The man suddenly stopped and faced them, his grin even broader then before. Nick's fists clenched in defense, ready to strike if need be.

"I fo' -got ta mention," the man said, placing a bronze hand to his rippling chest primly. "My name's Amos Moses, butchoo can call me Mo... if ya wanna."

"Pleasure to meet you Mo," Lily replied, stretching her hand out to shake his. "I'm Lily, and this is Nick."

"Way-ell, de pleasure's all mine, Mizz Lily," he said, bringing the back of her palm to his lips and kissed it, completely ignoring Nick in the process. "I reckon we better get goin', _oui_?"

Nick failed to answer as he began to follow them, ignoring the weight of his sopping clothes and trudging forward with stubborn grit. For a moment, he turned back and gazed at the plane now flipped over entirely on its side, its red belly gleaming in the cruel daylight. He turned and joined Lily and Mo, ignoring an abandoned boathouse probably stripped of useful supplies. How the others had made it that quick to the dock or safe house was a mystery Nick cared not to answer.


	10. Village des Marais

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Swamp Fever, Part Three_

By the time Nick, Lily and Mo reached the safe room (because it was much further than Mo had made it seem), the sun was at its highest point in the sky. The hot air was cooking their wet clothes to a shell against their grimy skin, adding to their ever growing discomfort caused by injuries and mosquito bites, and the terrible heat and humidity. The peculiar little house was carefully hidden by the foliage, curiously placed at the outskirts of the abandoned town after a long stretch of dirt road littered with bodies the entire way. Its doors were replaced with enormous iron ones, its windows were barred, and even the roof had been effectively rigged with barbed wire lining. No words could express how grateful they were to finally reach a safe place, but the feeling waned as soon as they saw the remnants of the village and its futile attempt at barricading it.

The other survivors were already inside, and it appeared that they had bathed and received a new batch of clothing. Standing at the small stove in the even tinier kitchen was a beautiful redheaded woman, whom Ellis seemed instantly infatuated with while she cooked a can of beans. He leaned against the wall beside her and was blabbering something about his friend Keith and his near fatal attempt to deep fry a turkey that resulted in horrible burns over - fantastically - ninety percent of his body. For the most part, the woman seemed aloof about his obvious attraction, nodding every once in a while with a smile for emphasis as he spoke.

"Evangeline!" Mo suddenly cried, capturing her attention. He leaned over to Lily and whispered, "Dat's my cousin. She de one dat found yo friends an' brought dem here when we heard de aeroplane alarm goin' off."

When the woman looked up, she waved the wooden spoon in her hand in greeting of the others, flashing a smile that was considerably more attractive than her kinsman's. Her cheeks were lightly dappled with freckles, and her long locks were tied back in braids that rested on her shoulders. She wore cut off denim shorts and what seemed to be a rag (but was really a flannel t-shirt tied at her waist), and was barefoot, but her feet were strangely clean of dirt.

"Sorry, your _wife_?" Nick quipped sarcastically, who received no acknowledgment from Mo but was reprimanded by an elbow to his ribs from Lily.

"Ya almos' finished wit' dem beans? We got two mo' hungry moufs ta feed."

"Yes, Mo," she replied sweetly. "It's nice ta meet y'all. I hope ya don' mind can' beans an' grits? Is all we got."

"No, we don't mind," Lily responded, flashing a menacing look to Nick. "Thank you very much."

"Where's Coach?" Nick asked, peeling his blazer from his shoulders and tossing it against a wooden chair.

"Asleep," Rochelle replied from her position on the couch. Her eyes were beginning to drift shut. "He's in the bedroom."

"Sure, why not. Let the old man have the only bed left in Confederate America."

"Ya must be Nick," Evangeline said, through enthusiastic narrowed eyes and a smirk as she pointed the spoon at him and wagged it. "Ellis here was tellin' me _all_ about ya."

For the first time since they arrived in the safe room, Ellis actually acknowledged their presence. He had been so enamored of Evangeline that he was completely oblivious of the others even as they conversed with each other until that moment. He took his hat from his head and sheepishly ran his hand through his sandy brown locks, his eyes twinkling with guilt and breaking their contact with the woman. He looked like a puppy that had just been caught pissing on the carpet, but was amazingly ignored.

"So, do y'all live here?" Lily asked, awkwardly standing in the center of the room beside Mo.

"Now we does," he replied, fetching a towel from a small cupboard and handing it over to her. "Last one. De udders are out dryin' on de porch."

"Thank you..."

"Ya welcome, _ma belle._ Ain't got no toilet d'ough."

He nodded toward the humble bathtub behind a wall, free of a door or any source of privacy aside from the ragged bath curtain hanging from the ceiling. She uneasily gave Mo a look that begged him for clothing, and with one of his irresistible toothy grins he nodded to a pile of clothes on the floor beside it. They looked relatively clean for the most part, and she was certainly in no position the argue such luxuries, especially when being deprived from them for so long.

"I can stan' watch if ya wants me ta, _ma cherie._"

"I'll be okay," she replied nervously, shrugging him off with a coy smile. "_Merci beaucoup_, Mo."

With that being said, she stepped behind the corner and turned the knob to run the shower. At the same moment, a cascade of miraculously clear water fell from the meek little shower head, raining against the tub streaked yellow from all the filth it had seen. She didn't even wait for the water to become warm (assuming that leisure was available) as she stepped into the lukewarm stream and allowed the water to drench her soaked clothes even further. With a sigh, her eyes fell to the current of blood and grime flow into the drain in endless surges, staining the tub more than before as it rolled away from skin and clothing. The shower was like ice battering the burns on her back, unraveling the gauze that had been taped to them until it was nothing but a soggy mess. She closed her eyes, allowing the vivid memories of the past two weeks to gush into the drain, mixed with the blood, swamp and faces of fallen humanity as she emitted one final heavy hearted sigh.

She stayed until the water ran comparatively clear, then shed her clothes and stopped the shower to stand naked in the tub. It was much less enjoyable than she would have expected it to be for not having the privilege for such a long time, but she repressed the depressing thought. She stood for a few moments, shivering in the swampy breeze that had gone unnoticed until that very moment. By the time she had finished, supper had been served for the second time. Everyone was standing around the table, eating from mugs and talking light heartedly to their new comrades, both of whom shared that same optimistic persona as Ellis.

And so it went, the survivors ate the bitter, butterless grits and canned pinto beans to their fill, fell asleep where they could be the most comfortable and allowed the daylight to run well into the night. Coach had been moved from his resting place by the smell of the food, and consequently was left to sleep on the sofa, leaving the bed for Rochelle and Evangeline. Ellis had fallen asleep at the table with his head propped up on his folded arms, snoring almost as heartily as Coach a few feet away from him. Only Nick and Lily were awake, separated by distance (as Nick was showering) and virtual silence. She drank deeply of an aged bottle of bourbon liquor she had found in a cabinet, seated on the floor next to the exit and stared out into the sky.

The enormous orb of a moon was at its fullest glow, casting an eerie but wonderful light upon the humble little village torn apart by the infection. No stars were visible above the treetops, and the breeze was virtually nonexistent, save for the occasional gust of sour smelling wind carried into the house. She traced her ink stained fingers along the words that she had made near the floorboards, sounding out the pathetic little phrase among the chaos of mournful graffiti that had already been scribbled all over the wall.

"I will miss you Nanan," she sighed, taking another long gulp from the bottle.

The sting in her throat slightly waned when Nick appeared beside her, absent of his trademark white suit and donning uncharacteristic old clothing to his obvious disdain. He had worked for hours to try and rid his suit of its stains, succeeded to some extent, and hung it outside to dry before he even bathed himself. His icy blue eyes caught the moonlight and sparkled oddly like gems in their sockets as he seated himself on the counter in front of her. His wet black hair fell around his face in soft curls until he pushed them back with a meaty hand still decorated with his famous gold trinkets. They watched each other for several moments, the tension between them like electricity.

"What?"

"Nothing," Nick said, his eyes never leaving her.

"The hell are you starin' at so intensely, Nick?"

"Where'd you get that whiskey from?"

Her words were starting to slur together in a tasteless mumbling, and the sound of it amused him to a certain degree. He chuckled inwardly, shaking his head at the woman who was hardly even such, barely appearing old enough to have a drink of that magnitude. She would be sick in the morning if not in a few minutes, and because of his knowledge of this, a tiny spark of sympathy ignited within him. Her eyes slowly traveled to the glass container wielded like a weapon in her hands, studying the golden liquid dancing in its confinement, and took another indulgent drink. He knew she wouldn't last very much longer in that condition, and would probably be laying unconscious before they could even finish their conversation.

"Found it," she replied, an impish grin playing at her pale lips. "Want some?"

He retrieved the bottle from her reluctant fingers, swallowing a generous amount in an impressive manner, and ignored the inevitable burn to set it out of reach from Lily. Something about the unfortunate soul of the native Texan endeared him unexpectedly, and was strikingly familiar, though he could not pinpoint the source. Her dark eyes glittered in their glossy state, expressing the sorrow that had been somewhat repressed until that moment of plain inebriation. They lingered on his frame for a few seconds, then crawled to the bottle of liquor beside him and finally settled back onto the moon.

"I'm goin' to sleep," Lily began, pushing herself to stand in a way resembling a newborn horse and hiccuping. "You ain't gonna size me up while I'm drunk."

"I was just looking at you, Texas," Nick replied softly. "Relax."

She stumbled forward, catching hold of the counter beside him and groggily raised her attention to stare into his face. The smell of the bourbon was more evident on her breath than the rotten stink of decomposing corpses outside, but for some reason, Nick was not repelled. He remained quite still and unscathed, just watching as the short woman commenced to making herself a bumbling fool. Her hair had dried into smoldering waves around her face now free of the caked on gore of the apocalypse, and for the first time since they met, he could actually see her.

"You goin' blind already, Nicky? I'm standin' right in front of you, you don't gotta look that hard."

She waved her hand in front of him for emphasis, only causing him to chuckle again and roll his eyes. He folded his arms against his chest, clearly amused at her behavior but somehow refraining himself from taking advantage of it. It was a feat he was not used to overcoming so quickly. Even when without warning she smashed her lips into his, with such passion that he could indisputably taste the bitterness of the whiskey on her mouth, he remained collected. The corn-wheat scent of her skin and hair somehow relaxed him enough to maintain his common sense and amazingly so, some respect for the girl. He peeled her little frame away from his, praying that she would by some miracle remain as calm as he was.

The effects of the liquor would obviously manifest, and would do so at that moment.

"What's the matter Nicky?" she purred, her voice rising in agitation. "I know your type. It won't mean a thing to you, and come mornin', I won't even remember. I'd say you've been dealt a fair hand."

"You don't know shit," he said, failing to sugar coat any part of the phrase. "You're wasted."

"Conveniently."

She leaned in for another kiss, succeeding in stealing the flavor of his lips once more, ignoring the scratch of the stubble that began to sprout from his face. Once again, he pried her away for the sole acknowledgment of the immorality of the situation. On any other day, he would have taken full initiative and done exactly as she had described, but at that moment everything was different. To him she was but a child throwing a tantrum, and her actions supported the notion brilliantly; additionally, his sympathy for the girl outweighed any lust that might have existed anytime prior.

"Be quiet, Lily."

"So you _do_ know my name! I reckon that's the first time you ain't called me Texas. You bastard."

Her hand didn't even reach her intended target as she fell limply off to the side, caught at the last minute by Nick's forearm before she could smack her head on the ground and increase her stupidity. She remained at that awkward angle, her eyes closed and body unresponsive as he uncomfortably handled her. Unsure of what to do, he placed her on the ground to sit against the wall, backed away and retreated to the only corner left in the entire house. The sound of her head hitting the door and a soft groan was the last thing that pulled him into his much needed rest.

The explosions of gunfire and wild cheering is what snapped them all simultaneously awake. Ellis flipped backward on his chair, falling straight to the floor in a bewildered heap; Coach practically leaped from the sofa through the wall, grabbing at his hunting rifle with crazy eyes; Rochelle and Evangeline concurrently screamed from the bedroom while Nick and Lily were startled from sleep. Mo was nowhere to be seen until his bronze silhouette sailed across the span of the windows, a rifle hoisted against forearm as he shot and jumped around in every direction. The telltale squeals of dying infected immediately alerted them of the situation, but it seemed to be under some control.

"_Va-t'a la merde!_" he cursed, blasting an unseen victim away with a round from his weapon and whooping with laughter.

The pale blue glow of approaching dawn outside shrouded him in a generous white mist, almost working as a curtain while he cheerfully danced around and annihilated the pitiful infected. The others all watched with mixed emotion as he blasted and reloaded periodically, and when the firing stopped, he turned to gaze through the gaps in the exit door at them with a grin. His gold tooth sparkled almost as brightly as his eye while he made his way back to the safe room, not a single drop of blood on his clothes.

"Wakey wakey, ladies," he said in a singsong voice, crouching by the dump of ammunition beneath a table to reload his gun. "Dem zombies gettin' smart. Dey be comin' from everywheres."

"I reckon we ought to get movin' then," Ellis said, not before bidding a sweet good morning to Evangeline.

"Boy, you are _crazy_," Coach muttered to Mo, who snickered enthusiastically. "Givin' me a heart attack. I'm too old for this shit."

"Let's get a move on, everybody," Rochelle stated, the hesitation in her step matching their reluctance to leave. "How long 'til we get out of the swamp, Mo?"

"Ain't got a damn clue, _mon amie_."

"Morning sunshine," Nick said to Lily, who was recoiling from the light and sounds of the scene as she staggered to get up. "You look like crap."

She didn't respond to his remark; as a matter of fact, she refrained from speaking at all as they searched the abandoned shantytown. Just as Nick had expected, she appeared to be feeling incredibly ill and the only sounds that did come from her mouth were dry heaves and haphazard moans every so often. On the bright side, she didn't weigh the group down much more than the swamp or its uninhabited village remains did.

"That is a shit ton of bodies," Nick remarked remorsefully, walking past an enormous fenced in pile of corpses of humans and animals. "Looks like we found Village des Marais."

"I heard of animals getting infected, but these don't look like they even put up a fight..." Rochelle murmured.

"So they just killed 'em all?" Ellis said softly in bewilderment.

"Better safe than sorry, I guess."

"Y'all show some respect lookin' for supplies," Coach ordered, his attention falling away from the grave site. "Although it don't look like we'll be findin' much in this place."

"Ya'd be su'prised," Mo responded lightheartedly, passing him up to run straight into a cloud of fog. "Us Cajuns be smarter den we look!"

"Hope you're smarter than your grammar," Nick muttered in addition.

"Cool it, Nick."

"Just sayin'."

They split up in couples, with the exception of Mo, to raid the tiny village with little success of finding useful supplies. It appeared that either the villagers packed up what they had and left, or the town was looted clean by other survivors passing through. Either way, they all continued forward until they met up in the tiniest of all the ramshackle huts, stranded by a bridge that would inevitably summon a horde from nowhere if lowered. The little shack had no light but bore a chest brimming with explosives, which Nick came across with much enthusiasm and distributed among the others.

"_Damn_," he said, grinning. "I'll give the hillbillies one thing. They're _damn_ good at making stuff to blow shit up with."

The still night air was interrupted by a terrible screeching of rickety mechanics at work as Ellis pulled the handle and lowered the path to the other side. The others all held their breath for a few seconds before the sound was joined in by agitated cries of the infected, and finally, hundreds of bullets being fired into the rapidly approaching crowd. The survivors had positioned themselves in every open angle of the shack, opening fire so aggressively that it caused the hut to shake with recoil. Adding to the trauma was the weight of the zombies climbing around all over, forcing the survivors to blast their way across the wobbly bridge, only to be stuck in the house at the other end.

"Fire in the hole!" Nick shouted, tossing one of the many blinking pipe bombs into the heart of the horde.

Immediately, the curious infected changed course and flocked to the explosive like flies on waste. For several minutes they remained there, attacking each other in the process of getting to it first. The survivors were thrown against the walls as the shock wave by the blast sent bits and pieces of zombies flying through the air in a rain of swamp water and gore. The planks of the shanty house splintered with impact, and as they continued to fight the second succession its unreliable foundation began to sway.

"What the hell is that?" Rochelle said, shining her weapon's attached flashlight into the woods beside them.

"Hey look out!"

A dozen mud ridden forms of infected were crawling over logs and fallen trees, splashing through the muck and charging them at incredible velocity. They weren't standing upright, either. Before Rochelle could alert the others of the new enemies or even fire a successful shot, the Mudmen stampeded the shack with a solid slam. They seemed to be working as a pack and planned to crush the survivors inside, causing them to stumble around while the wooden beams rocked violently.

"The fuck... ?"

Nick's sentence was never finished as the survivors were bombarded from every direction by the onslaught of infected. Another slam to the side of the shack knocked Coach and Evangeline to the floor, and the others were restrained from helping them back up by a swell of zombies that immediately swarmed them. Ellis, a new found rage blazing in his eyes, tore zombies to pieces with his rifle in a blind frenzy as he fought to get to the woman's side, and when he had reached her, proceeded to help her up in one impressive motion.

"We need to get out of this hut!" Rochelle demanded, fighting to maintain her balance as the floor trembled beneath her.

"Go, I'll cover you!" Lily suddenly said.

She unsheathed her machete and with optimal precision, began crazily hacking away at the swarm pouring in from all sides. The others instantly ran forward, blasting a path of crimson that granted access to another house, a little bigger than the one before. Lily retreated after them, powering over the plank bridge and joining them inside, only to find that the wave of infected still hadn't ceased. They had simply reached another section of the village, and this one was much larger. To add to their distress, zombies were still chasing them from the direction they had just come from, including the Mudmen.

"Go, go, go!" Mo shouted, urging the survivors to cross on the rooftop of a submerged house.

Splashes and grunts resounded behind them as they powered through the rickety houses, disappearing into the fog that had hidden away the watery ground below. Their boots sank in the ankle deep muck that fought to hold them down as they continued forward, their peripherals catching the quickly approaching shadows from every direction. Ellis was the first one to go under, his foot having been snagged by one of the agile Mudmen covered by the mist. He fell to the watery floor with an almost soundless impact, clawing desperately at the mud as he began to slide away.

"Help!" he cried. "They got me!"

Amazingly, damsel Evangeline was the first to run to his aide; her inability to shoot a gun half her size was masked by the temporary veteran's expertise given to her by her fury as she fired at the Mudmen and freed him. She didn't, however, help him to rise to his feet as she continued to shoot behind him, raining a muddy shower of their remains on him as Mudmen fell in her line of fire. No more time was wasted as they bolted to rejoin the others, reduced to standing their ground on a plank bridge a little sturdier than the housing foundations. It was then that Ellis spotted the familiar bloated figure waddling its way toward his friends.

"Boomer's girlfriend! Boomer's girlfriend!"

A deluge of green bile alerted them of its presence before Ellis could, and by the time he and Evangeline reached them, they were entombed in an enraged mob of infected. To make matters worse, the inflated creature had decided to remain near them like a spectator instead of running away. Shooting it would either cause them to fall off the pathway, drench them further in its vomit, or both. The painful cries of his swarmed comrades caused him to act quickly: he fired two shots from his rifle and the blast shook what seemed like the entire village. Fortunately, the impact separated the zombies from his friends and none of them had fallen from the bridge, just been soaked in slime.

"My. Fucking. Suit." Nick growled.

"Grenade!"

Another one of the pipe bombs sailed through the air and landed in the marsh below with a faint splash. The zombies charged from every direction, engulfing the blinking light in their mass as the survivors immediately took advantage of their breathing room and took cover in the shack at the other end of the plank path.

"I think that was Mama Rosie," Evangeline said as they passed the remaining chunk of the fat infected.

"Come on, darlin'," Ellis replied, taking hold of her hand and breaking out into a jog to cross the bridge just as the bomb exploded.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter was more of a filler... I apologize for the weird update schedule and the repulsive broken French (it's hard to spell out Cajun Creole), I've been suffering from a severe case of writer's block and work hours. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and THANK YOU to my faithful lurkers & Creepbox for keeping this going :)


	11. The Plantation

**SOUTHERN COMFORT**_  
Swamp Fever Finale_

"Hunter, Mo! HUNTER!" Evangeline screamed, watching helplessly as a hooded figure soared through the air in her cousin's direction.

A mass of bloody arms and fingers blocked her sight and rained down upon her, now reduced to an airtight trap of rabid corpses squealing with delight. They began to pummel her incessantly while she fought to break free of their entombment with a cricket bat. Needless to say, the wood of the paddle was splintering upon impact and wouldn't last much longer. The other survivors had been considerably scattered and cornered by the endless throng of zombies that poured from the swamp and seemingly from the sky, and were each struggling with their own dilemma.

"Wooeeey!" Mo cried out excitedly, spinning around just in time to catch hold of the Hunter as he wrestled it to the ground.

With a canine reminiscent yelp from the infected, Mo unsheathed an enormous hunting knife from the inside of his boot and proceeded to slashing its throat in spurts of crimson and green. All the while, the man hummed some kind of folk song beneath his breath, stood up, and battled the charging infected around him. Combat and primal warfare seemed to come naturally to the curious man, for he eliminated them with relative ease and seasoned skill, then continued to help free Evangeline of the same intended fate.

After what seemed like hours, the onslaught of infected turned into a slight trickle, and finally ceased, punctuating the relentless chaos in a scene of vast gore slathered throughout the swamp town. They had reached the outskirts of Village des Marais some half hour ago, battling the entire way out for some unknown reason. The original survivors had gotten lost amidst the clamor, and providing they had lived through the horde attack, were most likely trying to find their way back to each other.

Somewhere closer to the edge of the swamp, Lily and Ellis hacked their way through undergrove and ankle deep mud to finally land in a clearing, where a lone house with those familiar iron doors rested undisturbed. Few infected were lingering about aimlessly, and were killed with little struggle as the new couple dragged themselves toward the building. Fighting each other the entire way, Lily and Ellis dropped to the sturdy wooden ground in panting heaps, their eyes focused on the ceiling above them.

"Should we go back?" Ellis asked. "What if they're all dead?"

"They ain't dead, Ellis," Lily said, though her undertone stated otherwise. "They'll be here soon. If we go out there again we ain't ever gonna find 'em."

"I hope you're right, Lily..."

Without even closing the door to the place, the two slipped right into weary unconsciousness, the only sounds to accompany them being their breathing and chirping animals outside. Their newly attained clothes were stained once again with souvenirs of the swampland and its infected inhabitants they had no choice but to annihilate. It left them to wonder, right before falling asleep, just how many more of the infected there could possibly be out there in a seemingly desolate marsh. The answer would go undiscovered for quite a while.

"My fucking ribs!" Nick screamed, fighting to remain standing as he was being engrossed and beaten by a mob of zombies. "Ahhh!"

His previously acquired injuries were making themselves painfully more present now, reduced to his knees to fumble with his small sub machine gun. He blasted a few rounds as he fell back to the ground, shooting away only a few of the infected only to be replaced by several more. Through the growls and snarls of the zombies attacking him from all directions, he heard a familiar female voice calling his name, followed by the whistle of cold metal slicing through the air.

A rain of blood splattered his already soaked suit as two decapitated corpses fell at his feet, and more coming down after them. Standing among the red mist was Rochelle, her wild hair falling out of its braided bun as she panted and heaved for oxygen, cheeks flushed from the force of her swinging. A familiar axe was clenched tightly in one of her scratched hands, hanging faithfully at her side like a loyal pet. She offered him her free hand, helping him to stand only to push the weapon into his chest and begin walking away back into the swamp, leaving him to limp stupidly after her.

"Son of a bitch..." Coach muttered, staggering out into the clearing before the house with a grin. "I made it. I made it!"

With that being said, he began to stumble in an obviously painful, awkward manner toward the safe house, clambering up the steps with much difficulty until he reached the unlit room only to find Ellis and Lily laying on the floor. They were not moving, not conversing, not even the slightest twitch of their lashes or a visible rise and fall pattern in their chests assured Coach that they were still alive. The deep crimson stains in their clothes seemed more grave to him in that moment than ever before, and he fell to their sides to inspect them.

"Ellis..." he said, his heart suddenly sinking. "Dammit, kid! Wake up!"

In that same moment, the mechanic's eyes slowly drifted open, finally widening in surprise as he realized Coach was almost cradling his head in his lap. At the sight of the hefty man, Ellis screamed and leaped to his feet with joy, embracing him in a hearty hug. Coach returned the hug momentarily with a pat on his back, then brushed himself away just as Lily aimed her shotgun in his direction. Her eyes were crazy with fear and bewilderment, though immediately waning after realizing why Ellis had shouted so loudly.

"Shit, Coach!" she cursed, tossing her weapon onto a table and sinking back to the ground. "You scared the hell outta me..."

"Where's Nick and Rochelle?" Ellis asked, not usually enthusiastic as his eyes searched behind the man. "They on their way up? Is Evangeline with them?"

"I dunno, Ellis," Coach said, his eyes casting to the ground. "I barely made it here on my own. I didn't see them."

The boy's complexion turned uneasily pale as he retrieved his hat from his head to run his muddy hand through his hair with a sigh. His blue eyes traced a path to the iron door, now sealing them safely inside, which made him a little more uncomfortable. In his heart he decided that if they didn't show in a couple of hours, they were most likely dead, and they had no choice but to move on without them. He repressed the thought to take one of the conveniently provided health kits from a table and begin to clean out and mend his many wounds in silence.

"Nick!" Rochelle hissed underneath her breath. "Nick! Come here!"

She was crouched low behind the brush, poking her head over the foliage every so often with her rifle secure in her hands. He hobbled toward her with much struggle, stopping in front of her to pant with his hands on his knees. His blue eyes seemed to inquire what his vocal chords could not muster, and she nodded behind the undergrove at a clearing ahead of them. Behind a fenced barricade, which had been effectively shattered in various places and decorated with corpses, sat a rather large farmhouse. It seemed abandoned, aside from the lone carcass of a little girl slumped on the roof next to a pile of ammunition.

"You think it's safe?" she asked.

"It's gonna have to do for now," Nick said, pushing past the greenery to limp toward the fence. "Let's go."

Disregarding the fact that they probably should have been quiet, the two managed to climb over the barbed wire barricade and push open the creaky door to the house. It was relatively large inside, and seemed to have been quite fancy at one point in its lifetime; most of the furniture inside was gone, save for one lone bed in the second floor of the house, now replaced by several sleeping bags still imprinted with the weight of its prior inhabitants. They found the farmhouse to be quiet and vacant, though most of its doors had been bashed in or splintered; the house would offer little protection in the event of a random attack like they had just escaped from, but it would suffice for the time being.

"You hear that, Evangeline?" Mo inquired, his one eye scanning the abandoned road ahead of them.

A grin played at his lips and he cocked his pump-action shotgun with an excited laugh. Evangeline followed closely behind him, her own shotgun ready in her hands as she searched the surroundings coming to life with morning light. The dusty old road before them contained a small village off to its side; there were no remains, no clues or evidence that people had ever inhabited the village except for a lone axe wedged into a pile of firewood next to a barn. An enormous green tractor rested off to the side of the road, unmoving as it seemed to guard the entrance to a stretch of swampless wood.

It was the first time in hours that their feet touched solid earth; even the air was beginning to thin out a little.

"What you talkin' about, Mo? I don't hear nothin'," she replied uneasily, stopping near him.

"Shh!" he hissed, holding out his hand.

He unsheathed his enormous hunting knife and snapped in the direction of the vacant farmhouse. His footsteps crushed leaves and twigs beneath him as he approached it, slowly pushing the door to grant him access to the dark room inside. It creaked with pressure until it hit the wall, allowing some of the sunlight outside to shine a path for him. Something was definitely still alive inside, but the answer to what it was exactly was unknown. He pursed his lips and began to whistle, almost taunting whatever the shrouded enigma was to reveal itself; a sudden burst of excited footsteps echoed throughout the house, and then -

"Zombies don't whistle -"

"It's Crocodile Dundee!"

In his stained suit, now anything but the color white, Nick emerged from behind a wall, an unusual look of what seemed to be relief etched across his face. In a few seconds though, that look immediately disappeared to morph into one of utter horror as both Mo and Evangeline cried out in shock. A blast from a shotgun exploded through the air, thankfully missing its intended target to tear a humongous hole in the wall - but Mo tossed his hunting knife directly in Nick's path, barely skimming his cheekbone as he ducked to evade it.

"Nick?" Mo asked, his face brightening drastically. "Sweet Mother Mary! You alive!"

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Nick shouted, his eyes wide with fear. "You could've killed me!"

"Well we though' you was one o' dem zombies, ya know - good thang Evangeline ain't no good at shootin' stuff 'cause you'd-a pro'lly been dead about now!"

"Mo, are Ellis and Coach with you?" Rochelle asked, quickly running down the staircase to meet them. "Or Lily? Are they with you guys?"

Mo's expression dropped a little as he shook his head, his fleshy lips curled into a frown. Both Rochelle and Nick slapped their foreheads and sighed, their shoulders drooping with worry and apprehension for their lost comrades. Much like Ellis probably would have been, Mo remained cheerfully optimistic, hooting and hollering about how he had seen a curious path into the woods and felt as if they were almost home free. Nick and Rochelle were less than happy to hear the news, knowing that if they hadn't met up with their original team mates within a few hours, they would have to continue without them. Their ever shrinking hope seemed to flicker into ash as they found their respective places of rest and waited.

"It ain't lookin' good, y'all," Lily said, tearing her attention away from the window in the iron door to look at Coach and Ellis. "I ain't even heard a gunshot for hours."

Ellis rubbed his face with his hands and sighed; in his mind, he knew what had to be done, and before anyone could say anything further, he began to load his weapon with the ammunition found on the table. Coach watched him half heartedly, his eyes softened with sympathy. He turned back to Lily, who shared his expression and shook her head, offering him a frail twitch of her mouth as a smile. They both followed Ellis' actions, cocking and loading their guns in silence until they all stood up, almost in unison.

The mid morning light poured in through the gaps of the door's window in generous streams, bathing the floorboards in golden light. Outside, the foliage had dramatically cleared, and the elevation seemed a lot more stable than what they had experienced prior to the safe house. It was futile comfort and was immediately disregarded as they pushed open the iron door to step out into the fresh air, their guns raised and ready. They found nothing of use in the vacant little ghost town - and why should they have? The villages before this one were of the same fate - with this fact at hand, they didn't even bother to search the farmhouse next to the dusty road.

They followed the trail past the tractor and began to walk through a short stretch of wood until an old plantation house graced their lines of sight with its seasoned visage. It had obviously seen better days, but its sophisticated architecture still boasted of the beauty it had definitely possessed during that period. Upon reaching the mansion with their mouths agape, they realized some makeshift scaffolding had been built into one of its windows, which they ascended with caution. They climbed through the second story window, appearing into a partially demolished room that appeared to have belonged to a child at one point. An enormous hole had been blasted into the floor, and they dropped down with little to say.

"Ho-ly shit," Ellis whispered, turning in a full circle as he observed the house's once exquisite interior. "I ain't ever seen a house this big before."

"Me either," Lily said, equally entranced.

"This ain't a house, kiddos," Coach stated, matter-of-factly. He had pushed open what appeared to be the back door, allowing a shower of golden sunlight to flood the corridor. "It's a goddamn mansion."

The other two fell into step beside him, their eyes focused on the acre stretch of garden maze before them. All three of their faces seemed to almost burst with fascination at the landscaping ahead of them, not quite groomed but still indescribably brilliant; a mile of green rosebush twisted and turned in a wondrous labyrinth, an odd yet intriguing feat that accumulated to the enchanting aura of the place. It seemed to have been used as an evacuation station of the sort but failed, for there were traces of modern society with items that had been left behind. For a moment, the greenery kept their attention from the scattered piles of sleeping bags and living utilities in a room beside them, reeking of death and defeat.

"I guess they didn't make it," Ellis said sadly, his eyes reverting to Coach and Lily.

"You see that?" Coach asked, pointing toward the clear path that led to a wide gate.

Beside this gate, a curious little black box rested on top of a table, and a sound like static seemed to emanate from it. Without so much as another word, the trio raced each other to search the phenomenon, finding what was miraculously a contact radio; as to whom the contact at the other end may have been, they didn't know and cared not to find out as they switched it on and were greeted with a cheerful voice.

"Wake the fuck up!" Rochelle shouted, shaking Nick violently until he opened his eyes. "Hurry!"

"What the hell...?"

"We got company!" Mo hollered almost excitedly from his position at the window.

With one of his mighty legs holstered on top of its sill, the man was staring out at an approaching tidal wave of mud ridden infected pouring in from every single direction the swamp had to offer. Their faces were wrenched in horrible fury, their limbs powering like wild animals as they climbed and leapt over houses, cars and trees, bursting from foliage to surge in packs down the dusty road, disappearing into the woods. The man aimed his newly acquired hunting rifle and began blasting away as if it were a sport, whooping and shouting merrily with every target his bullets ripped to pieces.

"We gotta go! Come on!"

No more time was wasted as the conman leapt to his feet, staggering for a moment with disorientation but regaining composure almost instantly. The team proceeded to posting themselves up at the windows, sniping the crazed infected running full speed toward the plantation house until they finally decided that the horde would never cease. Reluctantly, the survivors climbed out on top of the roof - several of the infected had obviously spotted them, but for whatever reason, ignored them and continued to follow the others toward the woods - waiting for a precise moment for them to drop down onto a car below.

That moment would obviously never come.

The survivors leapt from the second story of the farmhouse and landed on the hood of a parked car with quite a ruckus, but the zombies didn't seem to care. It was only a few of them that decided to pull away from the crowd and initiate an attack, but they were taken care of fairly easily. Without any further hesitation, Nick and the others chased after the zombies, suddenly hopeful that maybe the reason for the attraction was because of his original comrades. Rochelle was apparently pondering the same option, because she continued onward as if she were a part of the chaos.

"Well go to bed," Mo said, never pausing in his sprint as they bolted through the wood toward the plantation house. "It really exists. Ol' Boudreaux was right after all."

"You see it too, Mo-mo?" Evangeline shouted happily, her eyes alight at the sight of the mansion. "That's the LeBlanc plantation!"

"Get to the scaffolding!" Rochelle demanded, pointing toward the ladder.

They fought against the wave of infected surging in their direction, now fully aware of their presence and agitated beyond comprehension. Rochelle and Evangeline were the first to scuffle up the makeshift ladder that groaned and shook beneath them; they whirled around upon reaching the top, firing at the horde that were climbing over and tugging at Nick and Mo. The foundation of the scaffolding was more than unreliable as it swayed violently beneath the weight, unable to support such heaviness at once.

"Go! Go!" Nick said, pushing the girls into the window.

A sickening crackle resounded behind him, and as he spun around he could see the scaffolding beginning to crumble with Mo still on top of it. The infected were bringing the entire thing down in a mess of wood planks and metal beams, and once it hit the ground, they would be unable to reach Mo.

"Grab my hand!"

In one swift, almost graceful motion, Mo soared through the air and latched on to Nick, who almost toppled forward with the man's mighty size. The girls aided him in pulling the man into the room, falling back to breathe for a little bit before realizing that the fallen scaffolding would do nothing to cease the onslaught of infected now scaling the walls of the mansion. The sounds of bullets and gunfire echoed throughout the halls of the plantation house, filling the survivors with sufficient driving force that pushed them to drop down immediately to the second floor.

"That's Lily!" Mo cried, a little too happily as he pointed to the third story of the house.

Situated on the balcony was little Lily manning an enormous heavy machine gun, conveniently installed by what they could only assume was the military. Her small figure was shaking with the recoil of the huge machinery, but that didn't seem to stop her as she whipped the gun in every direction and blasted unseen enemies to bits. Her frame was painted with blood and caked with body parts, going completely ignored as she bellowed a violent primal yell and hoisted one little foot against the railing.

The infected continued to pour into the house from every nook and crevice they could possibly use to their advantage, scuffling into each other as they raced to their victimized targets, only to be blasted away by unseen ammunition. Mo was the first to race up the staircase in what seemed to be only two bounding strides, falling into step beside her to add to the rain of bullets hailing down into the labyrinthine maze of the courtyard outside. She glanced at him through her peripherals, acknowledging his presence with surprise at first, but soon offering him a somewhat relieved grin until the machine gun grew too hot to tolerate. She fell away from the weaponry with a loud breath, linking her arms around the big Cajun man in a hearty embrace, only to be instantly broken by a flurry of arms and legs attacking them.

Downstairs, Nick and Evangeline had found Ellis and Coach pressed back to back, manning both sides of an adjoined staircase that led into the vast yard. They alternated between shooting rounds and hacking away with an axe and machete, and when the two had reached them, they were almost being engulfed. Rochelle had remained inside, pouring hot lead into spurts of infected that tried to run up the stairs where she was posted or out to the back where the others were.

"What the hell is attracting them?" Nick shouted above the roar of gunfire and zombies. "What the fuck did you do, Overalls?"

"I dunno!" Ellis responded, almost defeated. "We only used a radio!"

"Wooooeyyyy!" came Mo's voice from above them, just as the ground beneath them began to tremor uncontrollably. "Y'all get ready!"

An enraged bovine roaring bounced off the walls of the mansion, just as the earth under them continuously shook and grew even more violent and unsteady. Lily's heart began to pound in unison with the shaking, knowing full well what the source of the chaos was and anticipating its dreaded arrival. Beside her, Mo seemed to grow more and more excited, almost gleeful as he blasted away oncoming infected that seemed trivial in comparison to the behemoth rattling the foundation of the plantation house. He was the first to spot its swollen pink hide emerge from the window they had come from, shaking the floor beneath their feet as it landed inside and caused them to stumble away from their post.

"Tanker!" he hollered, though the others were already aware of its presence. "Let's get on outta here, _ma cher_!"

She felt his strong hand coil around her wrist, yanking her with him as he bounded back into the house, knowing full well that the position of the HMG rendered it completely useless. Everything seemed to melt away as the image of her Sergio and his terrible fate clouded her mind, erasing the setting around her that was beginning to fall apart. As if she were reliving that moment, she could feel the fear swell her heart and stop it, freezing her cold blood in her veins and planting her feet firmly where she stood.

Inside, the Tank was determined to crush the survivors, plowing through meager infected as if they were ants and crushing the interior of the house with every step it took. It was only a few feet away from her position on the staircase where she had frozen, but it seemed not to have noticed her as it broke through what was once the kitchen, sending debris flying around in its wake.

"What it is you doin' standin' der _ma belle_?" Mo asked, tearing her from her petrified stance to drag her out of the house through a side door.

"Kill it! KILL IT!" Rochelle shrieked, emptying the entire magazine of her weapon into its hulking chest as she raced out into the back porch.

"Holy-shit, kill it!" Ellis cried, barely jumping out of reach of one of its massive fists that swung out in front of him.

A pile of brick and wood came crashing down as one of the house's pillars was crushed with the force of the blow. Nick and Coach were firing madly into the leathery hide of the mammoth infected, but the bullets of their weapons seemed to do nothing but scratch it, agitating it further. From nowhere it appeared, Evangeline soared through the air to lodge the blade of an axe in between its head and shoulders before the furious Tank took hold of her and tossed her aside.

"DON'T STOP SHOOTING IT!" Nick hollered, reloading his weapon and thus having to cease fire for a few heart-stopping moments.

At the same moment, an explosion that rattled the ground beneath them with more shock than that of the Tank blasted through the air. The white gate at the end of the plantation had been blown to splinters, and when the smoke and fiery debris cleared, a humble fishing boat could be seen parked idly at the mouth of a partially submerged pier.


	12. Ducatel, Mississipi

**SOUTHERN COMFORT  
**_Hard Rain, Part One_

The shrill ringing from the explosion was still screaming in his ears as Nick raced toward the heaven sent chariot waiting at the end of the pier. He could already see Coach and Evangeline flying over its high wooden edges, those lucky bastards - why was he always last? Ignoring the wildfire that burned eminently inside his lungs and the throbbing pain circulating throughout various areas of his body, Nick flew forward with his teeth gritted. He trudged through the submerged dock with fervor, fighting to speed up while the force of the water did everything it could to slow him down.

He caught sight of Lily's wild black hair through his peripherals - he could have sworn he could hear her say something too - until he felt himself fall into the swamp that had suddenly become very deep. Water surged into his mouth and nostrils as he struggled to catch hold of something solid, but all that accompanied him was a flurry of bloody limbs drowning stupidly alongside him. He was hit repeatedly as the infected continued pouring into the swamp to their impending doom; he could even feel the earth tremor with the hulking weight of the Tank that they were currently running away from. With all his might, he began to paddle forward, ignoring the first signs of retaliation in his oxygen deprived lungs and blue-green gloom swirling in his eyesight.

Right before he broke the surface, a chunk of earth or concrete or whatever the hell the Tank decided to throw at him crashed into the water, barely missing him as the shock wave of the impact sent him spiraling back down into the murky depths. He was already cursing the existence of fallen humanity and the swamp that tried so hard to drown him since he arrived as he was quickly becoming certain of his approaching fate. His heart was beating a frantic pulse against his skull until suddenly he felt hands yank him upward, and immediately his lungs sucked in blessed oxygen as the clear blue sky graced his line of sight. The watery entombment became the flat wooden surface of the boat's deck and when he turned his head he could see Ellis laying beside him, panting and grinning handsomely. Nick was expecting a usual comment on their hair-thin victory, and oddly enough he didn't mind it this time around as he almost instantly succumbed to sleep.

"Should we wake him up?" Lily asked, her eyes scanning over his wet body. "What if he's got a concussion or somethin'?"

"Nah, he's fine," Ellis reassured her, rising to his feet and chuckling lightheartedly. "He might have a bad sunburn when he wakes up but he'll be okay."

The survivors watched as the swampland began to fade away from their focus, much to their appreciation. It felt as though they had spent years trapped in the haunted bayou and suddenly it was becoming part of their nightmarish past few days. Ellis took the hat that was miraculously still attached to his head and wrung it free of the bog water, then leaned back against the wall of the boat and folded his arms behind his head. His eyes met with Lily's and they both exchanged nervous smiles. They should have been accustomed to the way they always seemed to narrowly escape death, but that was something they still couldn't or didn't wish to comprehend.

When they were well off into the water of whatever ocean they were sailing (if it was that at all), Mo and Evangeline appeared from the captain's cabin with a burly man named Virgil in their company. He had a dark leathery skin with many lines etched around his joyful eyes and mouth that indicated he had seen many years of sun and happiness; his peppery hair was partially hidden by a dirty fishing cap and he spoke with an accent similar to Mo and Evangeline's - he was graciously polite, too - that no one could understand aside from the two. He greeted the survivors merrily with words that tumbled over each other and a firm handshake that nearly yanked their wrists from their sockets.

Then he, Mo and his cousin proceeded to telling jokes about two men named Boudreaux and Thibideaux (whether or not they were related was a mystery)while guffawing until it seemed their bellies would burst. Coach soon joined in, though whenever the Cajuns spoke his eyes would slightly widen and he would turn to Ellis and Lily, whom only laughed at his expression. Then they and finally Rochelle disappeared to the front of the boat, and only their excited jabbering and laughter (that being of the men) could be heard aside from the rushing waters parting beneath them. Ellis and Lily remained with Nick, who continued to rest in a sleep so deep that flies and on occasion a bird mistook him for a corpse.

"You sure he's alright, Ellis?" Lily asked, her brows furrowed at the mechanic. "He looks. . . dead."

"He ain't dead, Lily! He's just a damn heavy sleeper is all."

"Okay. . ."

A comfortable silence wafted between the two of them as they averted and reverted glances toward Nick and the wooden floorboards every so often. The intense staring contest between them and the ground soon ended when Ellis finally spoke up.

"So what's goin' on between y'all two?" he inquired, clearing his throat to settle the uneasiness that had formed in his voicebox.

Lily's eyes snapped toward him and she frowned, but her cheeks failed to receive and execute the memo of denial and flushed bright pink. She too cleared a knot in her throat and ran a hand through her wet curls, her dark eyes returning to the ground as she fidgeted.

"What do you mean?" she managed to muster.

"You know what I mean. I saw y'all kissin' the other night."

"Huh?"

He grinned, though it came across very awkward and unsure as he waggled his blond brows at her with twinkling blue eyes. She thought about it for a moment, then suddenly fished around in the pocket of her sopping jeans and found the bottle of bourbon she had swiped from the shanty town. Then she remembered - and immediately felt very sick - as the realization settled over her like morning fog. Her head gently smacked the wall as she fell back against it, a coy smile playing at her fleshy lips and an inward chuckle escaping her nostrils.

"I got a little drunk," she replied, showing him the whiskey. "I was just. . . y'know . . ._drunk_."

"Lightweight," he chortled, his grin spreading further almost to the point that it threatened to split his face in two.

"'scuse me?"

"You heard me!"

"I may be, I ain't had a drink like that since this goddamn nightmare started."

Then she shrugged her shoulders and her attention fell away to the edge of the boat behind Ellis, eager to see the water as the sunlight broke into millions of little fragments upon its surface. He studied her for a few moments, his smile never leaving his youthful face caked with bog mud as she shifted uneasily before him.

"How old are you anyway?" He asked, suddenly interested. He could see the color in her cheeks returning quickly.

"Old enough," she responded defiantly, though her tone was still hush-hush. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How old are you?"

"Young."

"Well ain't you smart ass, Ellis."

The silence returned between them once again as the two switched from twiddling thumbs anxiously or checking on Nick every so often, who had not moved a muscle yet. He finally looked somewhat peaceful and Lily was glad she didn't have to listen to him complain about how small the tugboat was or how hot the weather is, or the terrible condition his once elaborate suit had now been reduced to.

"What's it like in Texas?" Ellis suddenly asked, his baby blue eyes observing the ringlets beginning to dry around Lily's face.

"Beautiful," she replied simply, her own eyes glazing over as she reminisced about her home. "We got great lakes and rivers for swimmin', mountains and prairies for horseback ridin', and the food is incredible. Sergio's mom cooked the most wonderful dishes, and he was teachin' me how to speak Spanish . . ."

Her voice trailed off and Ellis could see the sadness taking over her dark eyes. He scratched at the stubble sprouting from his face nervously and waited until she composed herself enough before he spoke up, but she beat him to it.

"That's where I'm headin'," she continued, her tone suddenly determined. "Back to the Lone Star State. I need to see my family. I need to see if there's anything left. . ."

At that moment in time, she seemed to be reassuring herself rather than stating this fact to Ellis, who could only sit there and listen to her with nothing to say. He could feel his heart growing heavy as the same realization began to dawn on him as it usually did in brief moments of peace amidst the current chaos.

"What about Georgia? That's where you're from right?"

He looked up at her; he was a little off guard now.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. "I'm from Savannah, born and raised. It's awesome. I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else."

Then it was quiet again after that. The two must have forgotten that they were in each other's company as they succumbed to their nostalgia and remembered exactly what they had lost or left behind in the wake of this fatal epidemic. It wasn't until Rochelle and Coach reappeared with an enormous black duffel bag that they remembered where they were.

"This is the gun bag," Rochelle informed, showcasing the duffel. "Virgil said we're gonna be stopping soon. He's running out of gas. . . so you know what that means."

Both Ellis and Lily looked at her with pleading puppy dog eyes and matching frowns, but surprisingly enough, Nick was the first to inquire about their proposition. He had stirred from his sleep and was now propped up on one elbow, while rubbing his head with his free hand and scowling. His black hair was still damp with bog water but oddly, Nick still managed to remain attractive despite his deeply disheveled state.

"_What_ does that mean?" he grunted, pushing himself to a seated position.

"Looks like we're gonna have to make a pit stop."

"Where, exactly?" Nick continued, cracking his neck side to side.

"I have no idea. Some place called -"

"Ducatel, Mississippi!" Mo suddenly exclaimed, his remaining teeth bared in a smile as he appeared with his cousin.

"We're in goddamn Mississippi?" Nick was unsure if he was relieved or horrified as he uttered the name in a half-chuckle. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I thought we were in Louisiana," Ellis said almost inaudibly, just as confused as the others. "I thought we were almost there . . ."

"We's landin' in twen'y mints said Virgil, so y'all get ready."

Although it felt as though they were on the boat for minutes, in all actuality hours had passed and the sun was already hanging low in the sky. By the time they reached the shore, sunset was rapidly approaching. Curiously, the pier to their destination was established behind a fast food restaurant named Burger Tank. It was weird, and secluded.

"Y'all signal at me when ya grab de gas!" Virgil called through the loudspeaker before sailing away, leaving all seven of the survivors stranded in what was apparently Ducatel, Mississippi. . .at one point.

"What are we gonna signal him with?" Nick asked.

"There's flares in the gun bag," Ellis replied blithely.

"_. . .What_ gun bag?"

"You didn't get the gun bag? What the hell are we gon' do now?"

"_Me_? Who died and made me gun monitor?"

"Pretty much everybody."

"Y'all two settle down," Coach said, examining his dinky pistol, the only he so happened to keep strapped to his person. "Virgil said the gas station ain't too far from here. We could've already been there and back by now."

"Like all our other smooth plans, huh Coach?" Nick retorted, but was ignored. "You guys wanna hear a prediction?"

"No!" They all simultaneously chorused.

"There ain't gonna _be_ any gas."

"We'll just have to make do 'til we find some guns," Lily responded as calmly as she could. "Let's get goin'. Complainin' ain't gonna make this any easier."

And so they proceeded forward, armed with their handguns (only Rochelle was equipped with her favorite Magnum)and the axe, crowbar and second pistol they found littered next to an abandoned pickup truck. Soon they found that the entire street was blockaded and abandoned - there were little signs of struggle that were blatantly visible, which suggested CEDA had done some good for once - but miraculously the military had left some unarmed weapons in their wake.

They raided the medical cabinet in the restaurant and found some first aid kits, distributed an SMG, pump-action shotgun and hunting rifle among themselves, took from a pile of ammunition sparingly and continued on their way. . .only to find, to their horror, that the gas station was completely out. Nick tried to look as though he didn't notice half of the group glare at him murderously as he focused his attention on the darkening sky above them: to add to their disdain, a crash of thunder exploded and a light drizzle began to sprinkle from the sky that was starting to turn gray with storm clouds. So, armed with their makeshift weapons, they continued forward through the little town.

"Y'all keep a lookout for landmarks," Ellis said as he hopped over a fallen fence. "We might have to come back through here in a hurry."

"Should we search the houses for supplies?" Rochelle asked, climbing a ladder that was propped up against a trailer and reappearing into a suburban neighborhood. "It looks totally abandoned. I think these people might have gotten evacuated."

"CEDA finally did _something_ right," Nick muttered, following after her and receiving a disapproving look from Coach. "Let's see if we can find some bigger guns."

Their peaceful search didn't continue in that manner for very much longer as they traveled through the suburban neighborhood. Most of the houses had been unsuccessfully boarded up, broken into, or empty of any useful supplies aside from clothing, which they decided to leave as is. Even the garage sale they had to pass through offered them little items; only Ellis was excited when he came across a katana sword. They opened the door to the house once hosting the sale, only to find a trail of bodies leading all the way to the back door, and a terrible rancid odor circulating the entire building.

"Oh my God," Rochelle said, refraining herself from being sick at that same moment. "What the hell happened here?"

"I can't tell if these guys were infected or not," Ellis responded, carefully stepping over the cadavers until he reached the other side.

Things didn't get much better after that - when they finally reappeared at the other side of the neighborhood, which seemed to be its outskirts, they found to be accompanied by a scuffling horde of infected. The survivors froze innately in their steps, eyes widened and breaths caught in their throat. The zombies had yet to notice their arrival as they wandered about, and most were actually lazily immobile on the ground, but very obviously animated. But there were many - almost too many to count - and an encounter with a horde of that magnitude would most likely prove to be fatal, as they were scantily armed.

"Ellis?" Lily whispered, her eyes still focused on the meandering zombies.

"What?" he responded from behind her, also fixated on the crowd.

"Do you still have that pipe bomb from earlier?"

* * *

**A/N: **My deepest most sincere apologies for having taken this ridiculously long time before I updated! I had the draft saved for months, I just forgot all about it. I hope you all enjoyed (those of you still interested in the story)the resurrection of my baby :)


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